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I 
I 



^^^RABi^" 





THE ODES AND CARMEN 



S^CULARE OF 



HORACE. 



^,^ 

? 



THE ODES AND CARMEN 

S^CULARE OF 

HORACE 

TKAH8LATED INTO ENGLI8H TEBSE 
BT JOHN CONINGTON, M.A. 




FIFTB EDITION. 

LONDON; 
BELL AND DALDY, YORE STREET, 

CO VENT GAHDEN. 

1872. 



H5 

ten 3 



u 



TO 

J. A. SYMONDS, M.D. P.R.S. EDIN. 

ETC. ETC. ETC. 

IN MEMOBIAL 
OF COMMON TASTES AND INTEBESTS, 

AND IN TOKEN 
OF SINCERE AND GRATEFUL BEGABD. 



^' •; ' 



y 




PREFACE. 

SCAECELY know what excuse I 
can offer for making public this 
attempt to " translate the untrans- 
latable." No one can be more con- 
vinced than I am that a really successful translator 
must be himself an original poet ; and where the 
author translated happens to be one whose special 
characteristic is inconmiunicable grace of expression, 
the demand on the translator's powers would seem 
to be indefinitely increased. Yet the time appears 
to be gone by when men of great original gifts 
could find satisfaction in reproducing the thoughts 
and words of others ; and the work, if done at all, 
must now be done by writers of inferior pretension. 
Among these, however, there are still degrees ; and 
the experience which I have gained since I first 
adventured as a poetical translator has made me 
doubt whether I may not be ill-advised in resuming 



viii PRE FA CE. 

the experiment under any circumstances. Still, an 
experiment of this kind may have an advantage of 
its own, even when it is unsuccessful ; it may serve 
as a piece of embodied criticism, showing what the 
experimenter conceived to be the conditions of suc- 
cess, and may thus, to borrow Horace's own meta- 
phor of the whetstone, impart to others a quality 
which it is itself without. Perhaps I may be allowed, 
for a few moments, to combine precept with ex- 
ample, and imitate my distinguished friend and 
colleague. Professor Arnold, in offering some coun- 
sels to the future translator of Horace's Odes, 
referring, at the same time, by way of illustration, 
to my own attempt. 

The first thing at which, as it seems to me, a 
Horatian translator ought to aim, is some kind of 
metrical conformity to his original. Without this 
we are in danger of losing not only the metrical, but 
the general effect of the Latin ; we express ourselves 
in a different compass, and the character of the 
expression is altered accordingly. For instance, one 
of Horace's leading features is his occasional sen- 
tentiousness. It is this, perhaps more than any- 
thing else, that has made him a storehouse of quo- 
tations. He condenses a general truth in a few 
words, and thus makes his wisdom portable. " Non, 



PREFACE, ix 

si maU nunc, et olim sic erit ; " " Nihil est ah omni 
parte beatum;^* " Omnes eodem cogimur,'' — tbese 
and similar eipressions remain in the memory when 
other features of Horace's style, equally charac- 
teristic, but less obvious, are forgotten. It is almost 
impossible for a translator to do justice to this sen- 
tentious brevity unless the stanza in which he writes 
is in some sort analogous to the metre of Horace. 
If he chooses a longer and more diffuse measure, he 
will be apt to spoil the proverb by expansion ; not 
to mention that much will often depend on the very 
position of the sentence in the stanza. Perhaps, in 
order to preserve these external peculiarities, it may 
be necessary to recast the expression, to substitute, 
in fact, one form of proverb for another ; but this is 
far preferable to retaining the words in a diluted 
form, and so losing what gives them their character. 
I cannot doubt, then, that it is necessary in trans- 
lating an Ode of Horace to choose some analogous 
metre ; as little can I doubt that a translator of the 
Odes should appropriate to each Ode some parti- 
cular metre as its own. It may be true that Horace 
himself does not invariably suit his metre to his 
subject; the solemn Alcaic is used for a poem in 
dispraise of serious thought and praise of wine ; the 
Asclepiad stanza in which Quintilius is lamented is 



X PREFACE. 

emplojed to describe the loves of Msecenas and 
Licymnia. But though this consideration may in- 
fluence us in our choice of an English metre, it is 
no reason fot not adhering to the one which we may 
have chosen. If we translate an Alcaic and a 
Sapphic Ode into the same English measure, be- 
cause the feeling in both appears to be the same, 
we are sure to sacrifice some important charac- 
teristic of the original in the case of one or the 
other, perhaps of both. It is better to try to make 
an English metre more flexible than to use two dif- 
ferent English metres to represent two different 
aspects of one measure in Latin. I am sorry to say 
that I have myself deviated from this rule occasion- 
ally, under circumstances which I shall soon have 
to explain ; but though I may perhaps succeed in 
showing that my offences have not been serious, I 
believe the rule itself to be one of universal applica- 
tion, always honoured in the observance, if not 
always equally dishonoured in the breach. 

The question, what metres should be selected, is 
of course one of very great difficulty. I can only 
explain what my own practice has been, with some 
of the reasons which have influenced me in parti- 
cular cases. Perhaps we may take Milton's cele- 
brated translation of the Ode to Pyrrha as a starting 



PREFACE. xi 

point. There can be no doubt that to an English 
reader the metre chosen does give much of the effect 
of the original ; yet the resemblance depends rather 
on the length of the respective lines than on any 
similarity in the cadences. But it is evident that 
he chose the iambic movement as the ordinary 
movement of English poetry ; and it is evident, I 
think, that in ti'anslating Horace we shall be right 
in doing the same, as a general rule. Anapsestic 
and other rhythms may be beautiful and appix)priate 
in themselves, but they cannot be manipulated so 
easily ; the stanzas with which they are associated 
bear no resemblance, as stanzas, to the stanzas of 
Horace's Odes. I have then followed Milton in 
appropriating the measure in question to the Latin 
metre, technically called the fourth Asclepiad, at 
the same time that I have substituted rhyme for 
blank verse, believing rhyme to be an inferior 
artist's only chance of giving pleasure. There still 
remains a question about the distribution of the 
rhymes, which here, as in most other cases, I have 
chosen to make alternate. Successive rhymes have 
their advantages, but they do not give the effect of 
interlinking, which is so natural in a stanza; the 
quatrain is reduced to two couplets, and its unity is 
gone. From the fourth to the third Asclepiad the 



xii PREFA OE. 

step is easy. Taking an English iambic line of ten 
syllables to represent the longer lines of the Latin, 
an English iambic line of six syllables to represent 
the shorter, we see that the metre of Horace's 
" Scriheris Vdrio'^ finds its representative in the 
metre of Mr. Tennyson's ** Dream of Fair Women." 
My experience would lead me to believe the English 
metre to be quite capable, in really skilful hands, of 
preserving the effect of the Latin, though, as I have 
said above, the Latin measure is employed by 
Horace both for a threnody and for a love-song. 

The Sapphic and the Alcaic involve more difficult 
questions. Here, however, as in the Asclepiad, I 
believe we must be guided, to some extent, by ex- 
ternal similarity. We must choose the iambic move- 
ment as being most congenial to English ; we must 
avoid the ten-syllable iambic as abeady appropriated 
to the longer Asclepiad line. This leads me to 
conclude that the staple of each stanza should be the 
eight-syllable iambic, a measure more familiar to 
English lyric poetry than any other, and as such 
well adapted to represent the most familiar lyric 
measures of Horace. With regard to the Sapphic, 
it seems desirable that it should be represented by 
a measure of which the three first lines are eight- 
byllable iambics, the fourth some shorter variety. 



PREFACE, xiii 

Of this stanza there are at least two kinds for which 
something might he said. It might he constructed 
so that the three first lines should rhyme with each 
other, the fourth being otherwise dealt with ; or it 
might he framed on the plan of alternate rhymes, 
the fourth line still being shorter than the rest. Of 
the former kind two or three specimens are to be 
found in Francis' translation of Horace. In these 
the fourth line consists of but three syllables, the 
two last of which rhyme with the two last syllables 
of the fourth line of the next succeeding stanza^ as 
for instance : — 

You shoot ; she whets her tusks to bite ; 
While he who sits to judge the fight 
Treads on the palm with foot so white, 

Disdainful, 
And sweetly floating in the air 
Wanton he spreads his fragrant hair, 
lake Ganymede or Nireus fair. 

And yainfiil^ 

It would be possible, no doubt, to produce verses 
better adapted to recommend the measure than these 
stanzas, which are, however, the best that can be 
quoted from Francis ; it might be possible, too, to 
suggest some improvement in the structure of the 
fourth line. But, however managed, this stanza 
would, I think, be open to two serious objections ; 



XIV PREFACE. 

the difficulty of finding three Buitahle rhymes for 
each stanza, and the difficulty of disposing of the 
fourth line, which, if made to rhyme with the fourth 
line of the next stanza, produces an awkwardness in 
the case of those Odes which consist of an odd num- 
her of stanzas (a large proportion of the whole 
amount), if left unrhymed, creates an obviously dis- 
agreeable effect. We come then to the other alter- 
native, the stanza with alternate rhymes. Here the 
question is about the fourth line, which may either 
consist of six syllables, like Coleridge's Fragment, 
** O leave the lily on its stem," or of four, as in 
Pope's youthful " Ode on Solitude," these types 
being further varied by the addition of an extra 
syllable to form a double rhyme. Of these the 
four-syllable type seems to me the one to be pre- 
ferred, as giving the effect of the Adonic better than 
if it had been two syllables longer. The double 
rhyme has, I think, an advantage over the single, 
were it not for its greater difficulty. Much as 
English lyric poetry owes to double rhymes, a re- 
gular supply of them is not easy to procure ; some 
of them are apt to be cumbrous, such as words in 
-ation ; others, such as the participial -ing {dying, 
flyingy <fec.), spoil the language of poetry, leading 
to the employment of participles where participles 



PREFACE. XT 

are not wanted, and of verbal substantives that exist 
nowhere else. My first intention was to adopt the 
double rhyme in this measure, and I accordingly 
executed three Odes on that plan (Book I. Odes 
22, 38 ; Book II. Ode 16) ; afterwards I aban- 
doned it, and contented myself with the single 
rhyme. On the whole, I certainly think this 
measure answers sufficiently well to the Latin Sap- 
phic ; but I have felt its brevity painfully in almost 
every Ode that I have attempted, being constantly 
obliged to omit some part of the Latin which I would 
gladly have preserved. The great number of mono- 
syllables in English is of course a reason for ac- 
quiescing in lines shorter than the corresponding 
lines in Latin; but even in English polysyllables 
are often necessary, and still oftener desirable ou 
grounds of harmony ; and an allowance of twenty- 
eight syllables of English for thirty-eight of Latin 
is, after all, rather shorf. 

For the place of the Alcaic there are various can- 
didates. Mr. Tennyson has recently invented a 
measure which, if not intended to reproduce the 
Alcaic, was doubtless suggested by it, that which 
appears in his poem of " The Daisy," and, in a 
slightly different form, in the " Lines to Mr. 
Maurice." The two last lines of the latter form of 



xvi PREFACE, 

the stanza are indeed evidently copied from the 
Alcaic, with the simple omission of the last syllable 
of the last line of the original. Still, as a whole, I 
doubt whether this form would be as suitable, at 
least for a dignified Ode, as the other, where the 
initial iambic in the last line, substituted for a 
trochee, makes the movement different. I was de- 
terred, however, from attempting either, partly by 
a doubt whether either had been sufficiently natu- 
ralized in English to be safely practised by an un- 
skilful hand, partly by the obvious difficulty of 
having to provide three rhymes per stanza, against 
which the occurrence of one line in each without a 
rhyme at all was but a poor set-off. A second 
metre which occurred to me is that of Andrew 
Marvel's Horatian Ode, a variety of which is found 
twice in Mr. Keble's Christian Year. Here two 
lines of eight syllables are followed by two of six, 
the difference between the types being that in Mar- 
vel's Ode the rhymes are successive, in Mr. Keble's 
alternate. The external correspondence between 
this and the Alcaic is considerable ; but the brevity 
of the English measure struck me at once as a fatal 
obstacle, and I did not try to encounter it. A third 
possibility is the stanza of ** In Memoriam," which 
has been adopted by the clever author of " Poems 



PREFACE. xvii 

and Translations, by C. S. C," in his version of 
" Justwm et teruicemJ^ I think it very probable 
that this will be found eventually to be the best 
representation of the Alcaic in English, especially 
as it appears to afford facilities for that linking of 
stanza to stanza which one who wishes to adhere 
closely to the logical and rhythmical structure of the 
Latin soon learns to desire. But I have not adopted 
it ; and I believe there is good reason for not doing 
so. With all its advantages, it has the patent dis- 
advantage of having been brought into notice by a 
poet who is influencing the present generation as 
only a great living poet can. A great writer now, 
an inferior writer hereafter, may be able to handle 
it with some degree of independence ; but the ma- 
jority of those who use it at present ai*e sure in 
adopting Mr. Tennyson's metre to adopt his man- 
ner. It is no reproach to " C. S. C." that his Ode 
reminds us of Mr. Tennyson ; it is a praise to him 
that the recollection is a pleasant one. But Mr. 
Tennyson's manner is not the manner of Horace, 
and it is the manner of a contemporary ; the ex- 
pression — a most powerful and beautiful expression 
— of influences to which a translator of an ancient 
classic feels himself to be too much subjected al- 
ready. What is wanted is a metre which shall have 

b 



xviii PREFACE. 

other associations than those of the nineteenth cen- 
tury, which shall be the growth of various periods 
of English poetry, and so be independent of any. 
Such a metre is that which I have been led to 
choose, the eight-syllable iambic with alternate 
rhymes. It is one of the commonest metres in the 
language, and for that reason it is adapted to more 
than one class of subjects, to the gay as well as to 
the grave. But I am mistaken if it is not peculiarly 
suited to express that concentrated grandeur, that 
majestic combination of high eloquence with high 
poetry, which make the early Alcaic Odes ol 
Horace's Third Book what they are to us. The main 
difficulty is in accommodating its structure to that ol 
the Latin, of varying the pauses^and of linking stanza 
to stanza. It is a difficulty before which I have felt 
myself almost powerless, and I have in consequence 
been driven to the natural expedient of weakness, 
compromise, sometimes evading it, sometimes coping 
with it unsuccessfully. In other respects I may be 
allowed to say that I have found the metre plea- 
santer to handle than any of the others that I have 
attempted, except, perhaps, that of " The Dream of 
Fair Women." The proportion of syllables in each 
stanza of English to each stanza of Latin is not much 
greater than in the case of the Sapphic, thirty-two 



PREFACE. xix 

ngainst forty-one ; yet, except in a few passages, 
chiefly those containing proper names, I have had 
no disagreeable sense of confinement. I believe the 
reason of this to be that the Latin Alcaic generally 
contains fewer words in proportion than the Latin 
Sapphic, the former being favourable to long words, 
the latter to short ones, as may be seen by contrast- 
ing such lines as " Dissentientis conditionihtLS^^ 
with such as " Dona prcesentis rape IcBtus horas ac^ 
This, no doubt, shows that there is an inconvenience 
in applying the same English iambic measure to two 
metres which differ so greatly in their practical re- 
sult; but so far as I can see at present, the evil 
appears to be one of those which it is wiser to sub- 
mit to than to attempt to cure. 

The problem of finding English representatives 
for the other Horatian metres, if a more difficult, is 
a less important one. The most pressing case is 
that of the metre known as the second Asclepiad, 
the " Sic te diva potens Cypri.^' With this, I fear, 
I shall be thought to have dealt rather capriciously, 
having rendered it by four different measures, three 

• 

of them, however, varieties of the same general 
type. It so happens that the first Ode which I 
translated was the celebrated Amcebean Poem, the 
dialogue between Horace and Lydia. I had had at 



XX PREFACE. 

that time not the most distant notion of translating 
the whole of the Odes, or even any considerable 
number of them, so that in choosing a metre I 
thought simply of the requirements of the Ode in 
question, not of those of the rest of its class. In- 
deed, I may say that it was the thought of the metre 
which led me to try if I could translate the Ode. 
Having accomplished my attempt, I turned to an- 
other Ode of the same class, the scarcely less cele- 
brated, " Quern tUy MelpomeneJ* For this I took a 
different metre, which happens to be identical with 
that of a solitary Ode in the Second Book, " Non 
ebur neque aurewm^^ being guided still by my feel- 
ing about the individual Ode, not by any more 
general considerations. I did not attempt a third 
until I had proceeded sufficieatly far in my under- 
taking to see that I should probably continue to the 
end. Then I had to consider the question of a 
uniform metre to answer to the Latin. Both of 
those which I had already tried were rendered im- 
practicable by a double rhyme, which, however 
manageable in one or two Odes, is unmanageable, 
as I have before intimated, in the case of a large 
number. The former of the two measures, divested 
of the double rhyme, would, I think, lose most of its 
attractiveness ; the latter suffers much less from the 



PEE FA CK xxi 

privation : the latter accordingly I chose. The 
trochaic character of the first line seems to me to 
give it an advantage over any metre composed of 
pure iamhics, if it were only that it discriminates it 
from those alternate ten-syllable and eight-syllable 
iambics into which it would be natural to render 
many of the Epodes. At the same time, it did not 
appear worth whUe to rewrite the two Odes already 
translated, merely for the sake of uniformity, as the 
principle of correspondence to the Latin, the alterna- 
tion of longer and shorter lines, is really the same 
in all three cases. Nay, so tentative has been my 
treatment of the whole matter, that I have even 
translated one Ode, the third of Book I, into suc- 
cessive rather than into alternate rhymes, so that 
readers may judge of the comparative effect of the 
two varieties. After this confession of irregularity, 
I need scarcely mention that on coming to the Ode 
which had suggested the metre in its unmutilated 
state, I translated it into the mutilated form, not 
caring either to encounter the inconvenience of the 
double rhymes, or to make confusion worse con- 
founded oy giving it, what it has in the Latin, a 
separate form of its own. 

The remaining metres may be dismissed in a 
very few words. As a general rule, I have avoided 



xxii PREFACt:, 

couplets of any sort, and chosen some kind of stanza. 
As a German critic has pointed out, all the Odes of 
Horace, with one doubtful exception, maj be re- 
duced to quatrains; and though this peculiarity 
does not, so far as we can see, affect the character 
of any of the Horatian metres (except, of course, 
those that are written in stanzas), or influence the 
structure of the Latin, it must be considered as a 
happy circumstance for those who wish to render 
Horace into English. In respect of restraint, in- 
deed, the English couplet may sometimes be less 
inconvenient than the quatrain, as it is, on the whole, 
easier to run couplet into couplet than to run quat- 
rain into quatrain; but the couplet seems hardly 
suitable for an English lyrical poem of any length, 
the very notion of lyrical poetry apparently involv- 
ing a complexity which can only be represented by 
rhymes recurring at intervals. In the case of one 
of the three poems written by Horace in the measure 
called the greater Asclepiad, (" Tu ne qttcesieris/') 
I have adopted the couplet ; in another (" Nullam, 
Tare/') the quatrain, the determining reason in the 
two cases being the length of the two Odes, the 
former of which consists but of eight lines, the latter 
of sixteen. The metre which I selected for each is 
the thirteen-syllable trochaic of *.' Locksley Hall ; " 



9BEFACE, xxiii 

and it is curious to observe the different effect of the 
metre according as it is written in two lines or in 
four. In the " Lockslej Hall " couplet its move- 
ment is undoubtedly trochaic ; but when it is ex- 
panded into a quatrain, as in Mrs. Browning's poem 
of " Lady Geraldine's Courtship/' the movement 
changes, and instead of a more or less equal stress 
on the alternate syllables, the full ictus is only felt 
in one syllable out of every four ; in ancient metrical 
language the metre becomes Ionic a minore» This 
very Ionic a minore is itself, I need not say, the 
metre of a single Ode in the Third Book, the 
** Miserarum est,^^ and I have devised a stanza for 
it, taking much more pains with the apportionment 
of the ictus than in the case of the trochaic quatrain, 
which is better able to modulate itself. I have also 
ventured to invent a metre for that technically 
known as the Fourth Archilochian, the " Solvitur 
acris hiems," by combining the fourteen-syllable 
with the ten-syllable iambic in an alternately rhym- 
ing stanza.* The First ArchHochian, " Diffugere 
nivesy^ I have represented by a combination of the 

* I may be permitted to mention that Lord Derby, in a 
▼olame of Translations printed privately before the appear- 
ance of this work, has employed the same measure in render- 
ing the same Ode, the only difference being that his rhymes 
are not alternate, but successive. 



xjuv PBEFACm 

ten-syllable with the four-syllable iambic. For the 
so-called greater Sapphic, the " Lydia, die per 
omnes" I have made another iambic combination, 
the six-syllable with the fourteen -syllable, arranged 
as a couplet. The choriambic I thought might be 
exchanged for a heroic stanza, in which the fii*st 
line should rhyme with the fourth, the second with 
the third, a kind of " In Memoriam " elongated. 
Lastly, I have chosen the heroic quatrain proper, 
the metre of Gray's " Elegy," for the two Odes in 
the First Book written in what is called the Metrum 
Alcmanium, " Laudabunt alii" and " Te maris et 
UiTCBy" rather from a vague notion of the dignity of 
the measure than from any distinct sense of special 
appropriateness. 

From this enumeration, which I fear has been 
somewhat tedious, it will be seen that I have been 
guided throughout not by any systematic principles, 
but by a multitude of minor considerations, some 
operating more strongly in one case, and some in 
another. I trust, however, that in all this diversity 
I shall be found to have kept in view the object on 
which I have been insisting, a metrical corres- 
pondence with the original. Even where I have 
been most inconsistent, I have still adhered to the 
rule of comprising the English within the same 



P ft E FACE, xxr 

number of lines as,the Latin. I believe this to be 
almost essential to the preservation of the charaeter 
of the Horatian Ijric, vrhich always retains a certain 
severity, and never loses itself in modem exube- 
rance ; and though I am well aware that the result 
in my case has frequently, perhaps generally, been 
a most un-Horatian stiflfness, I am convinced from 
my own experience that a really accomplished artist 
would find the task of composing under these condi- 
tions far more hopeful than he had previously ima- 
gined it to be. Yet it is a restraint to which scarcely 
any of the previous translators of the Odes have 
been willing to submit. Perhaps Professor Newman 
is the only one who has carried it through the whole 
of the Four Books ; most of my predecessors have 
ignored it altogether. It is this which, in my judg- 
ment, is the chief drawback to the success of the 
most distinguished of them, Mr. Theodore Martin. 
He has brought to his work a grace and delicacy of 
expression and a happy flow of musical verse which 
are beyond my praise, and which render many of 
his Odes most pleasing to read as poems. I wish 
he had combined with these qualities that terseness 
and condensation which* remind us that a Eoman, 
even when writing " songs of love and wine," was a 
Boman still* 



xxvi PREFACE. 

Some may consider it extraordinary that in dis- 
cussing the diflPerent ways of representing Horatian 
metres I have said nothing of transplanting those 
metres themselves into English. I think, however, 
that an apology for my silence may he found in the 
present state of the controversy about the English 
hexameter. Whatever may be the ultimate fate of 
that struggling alien — ^and I confess myself to be 
one of those who doubt whether he can ever be 
naturalized — ^most judges will, I believe, agree that 
for the present at any rate his case is sufficient to 
occupy the literary tribunals, and that to raise any 
discussion on the rights of others of his class would 
be premature. Practice, after all, is more powerful 
in such matters than theory; and hardly at any 
time in the three hundred years during which we 
have had a formed literature has the introduction of 
classical lyric measures into English been a practical 
question. Stanihurst has had many successors in the 
hexameter ; probably he has not had more than one 
or two in the Asclepiad. The Sapphic, indeed, has 
been tried repeatedly ; but it is an exception which 
is no exception, the metre thus intruded into our lan- 
guage not being really the Latin Sapphic, but a metre 
of a different kind, founded on a mistake in the manner 
of reading the Latin, into which Englishmen natu- 



PREFACE. xxvii 

rally fall, and in which, for convenience' sake, they as 
naturally persist. The late Mr. Clough, whose efforts 
in literature were essentially tentative, in form as well 
as in spirit, and whose loss for that very reason is 
perhaps of more serious import to English poetry 
than if, with equal genius, he had possessed a more 
conservative hahit of mind, once attempted repro- 
ductions of nearly all the different varieties of Hora- 
tian metres. They may he found in a paper which 
he contributed to the fourth volume of the *^ Classical 
Museum ;" and a perusal of them will, I think, he 
likely to convince the reader that the task is one in 
which even great rhythmical power and mastery of 
language would be far from certain of succeeding. 
Even the Alcaic fragment which he has inserted in 
his " Amours de Voyage,** — 

" Eager for battle here 
Stood Yulcan, here matronal Juno, 
And with the bow to his shoalder faithful 
He who with pure dew laveth of Castaly 
His flowing locks, who holdeth of Lycia 
The oak forest and the wood that bore him, 
Delos' and Fatara's own Apollo," — 

admirably finished as it is, and highly pleasing as a 
fragment, scarcely persuades us that twenty stanzas 
of the same workmanship would be read with 
adequate pleasure, still less that the same satis- 



xxviii PREFACE. 

faction would be felt through six-and-thirty Odes. 
After all, however, a sober critic will be disposed 
rather to pass judgment on the past than to predict 
the future, knowing, as he must, how easily the 
" solvitur amhulando^' of an artist like Mr. Tenny- 
son may disturb a whole chain of ingenious reason- 
ing on the possibilities of things. 

The question of the language into which Horace 
should be translated is not less important than that of 
the metre ; but it involves far less discussion of points 
of detail, and may, in fact, be very soon dismissed. I 
believe that the chief danger which a translator has 
to avoid is that of subjection to the influences of his 
own period. Whether or no Mr. Merivale is right 
in supposing that an, analogy exists between the 
literature of the present day and that of post- 
Augustan Kome, it will not, I think, be disputed 
that between our period and the Augustan period 
the resemblances are very few, perhaps not more 
than must necessarily exist between two periods of 
high cultivation. It is the fashion to say that the 
characteristic of the literature of the last century 
was shallow clearness, the expression of obvious 
thoughts in obvious, though highly finished lan- 
guage ; it is the fashion to retort upon our own 
generation that its tendency is to over-thinking and 



PREFACE. xxix 

over-expression, a constant search for thoughts 
which shall not be obvious and words which shall be 
above the level of received conventionality. Accept- 
ing these as descriptions, however imperfect, of 
two different types of literature, we can have no 
doubt to which division to refer the literary remains 
of Augustan Rome, The Odes of Horace, in parti- 
cular, will, I think, strike a reader who comes back 
to them after reading other books, as distinguished 
by a simplicity, monotony, and almost poverty of 
sentiment, and as depending for the charm of their 
external form not so much on novel and ingenious 
images as on musical words aptly chosen and aptly 
combined. We are always hearing of wine-jars and 
Thracian convivialities, of parsley wreaths and 
Syrian nard ; the graver topics, which it is the poet's 
wisdom to forget, are constantly typified by the 
terrors of quivered Modes and painted Gelonians ; 
there is the perpetual antithesis between youth and 
age, there is the ever-recurring image of green and 
withered trees, and it is only the attractiveness of 
the Latin, half real, half perhaps arising from asso- 
ciation and the romance of a language not one's 
own, that makes us feel this " Ivrical common- 
place" more supportable than common-place is 
usually found to be. It is this, indeed, which con- 



XXX PREFACE. 

stitutes the grand difficulty of the translator, who 
may well despair when he undertakes to reproduce 
beauties depending on expression by a process in 
which expression is sure to be sacrificed. But it 
would, I think, be a mistake to attempt to get rid 
of this monotony by calling in the aid of that variety 
of images and forms of language which modem 
poetry presents. Here, as in the case of metres, it 
seems to me that to exceed the bounds of what may 
be called classical parsimony would be to abandon 
the one chance, faint as it may be, of producing on 
the reader's mind something like the impression 
produced by Horace. I do not say that I have 
always been as abstinent as I think a translator 
ought to be ; here, as in all matters connected with 
this most difficult work, weakness may claim a 
licence of which strength would disdain to avail 
itself; I only say that I have not surrendered 
myself to the temptation habitually and without a 
struggle. As a general rule, while not unfrequently 
compelled to vary the precise image Horace has 
chosen, I have substituted one which he has used 
elsewhere ; where he has talked of triumphs, mean- 
ing no more than victories, I have talked of bays ; 
where he gives the picture of the luxuriant harvests 
of Sardinia, I have spoken of the wheat on the 



PRE FA CE. xxxi 

threshing-floors. On the whole I have tried, so far 
as my powers would allow me, to give my translation 
something of the colour of our eighteenth-century 
poetry, believing the poetry of that time to be the 
nearest analogue of the poetry of Augustus' court 
that England has produced, and feeling quite sure 
that a writer will bear traces enough of the language 
and manner of his own time to redeem him from the 
charge of having forgotten what is after all his 
native tongue. As one instance out of many, I may 
mention the use of compound epithets as a tempta- 
tion to which the translator of Horace is sure to be 
exposed, and which, in my judgment, he ought in 
general to resist. Their power of condensation 
naturally recommends them to a writer who has to 
deal with inconvenient clauses, threatening to swallow 
up the greater part of a line ; but there is no doubt 
that in the Augustan poets, as compared with the 
poets of the republic, they are chiefly conspicuous 
for their absence, and it is equally certain, I think, 
that a translator of an Augustan poet ought not to 
suffer them to be a prominent feature of his style. I 
have, perhaps, indulged in them too often myself to 
note them as a defect in others ; but it seems to me 
that they contribute, along with the Tennysonian 
metre, to diminish the pleasure with which we read 



xxxii PRE FA CE. 

Buch a yersion as that of which I have already 
spoken hj " C. S. C," of " Justum et tenacem,^^ I 
may add, too, that I have occasionally allowed the 
desire of brevity to lead me into an omission of the 
definite article, which, though perhaps in keeping 
with the style of Milton, is certainly out of keeping 
with that of the eighteenth century. It is one of a 
translator's many refuges, and has been conceded 
so long that it can hardly be denied him with justice, 
however it may remind the reader of a bald verbal 
rendering. 

A very few words will serve to conclude this 
somewhat protracted Preface. I have not sought to 
interpret Horace mth the minute accuracy which I 
should think necessary in writing a commentary : 
and in general I have been satisfied to consult two 
of the latest editions, those by Orelli and Bitter. 
In a few instances I have preferred the views of the 
latter ; but his edition will not supersede that of the 
former, whose commentary is one of the most judi- 
cious ever produced, within a moderate compass, 
upon a classical author. Xn the few notes which I 
have added at the end of this volume, I have noticed 
chiefly the instances in which I have differed from 
him, in favour either of Ritter's interpretation, or of 
some view of my own. At the same time it must 



PREFACE. xxxiii 

be said that mj translation is not to be understood 
as always indicating the interpretation I prefer. 
Sometimes, where the general effect of two views of 
the construction of a passage has been the same, I 
have followed that which I believed to be less cor- 
rect, for reasons of convenience. I have of course 
held myself free to deviate in a thousand instances 
from the exact form of the Latin sentence ; and it 
did not seem reasonable to debar myself from a 
mode of expression which appeared generally con- 
sistent with the original, because it happened to be 
verbally consistent with a mistaken view of the 
Latin words. To take an example mentioned in 
my notes, it may be better in Book IIL Ode 3, 
line 25, to make ^^adtdterce" the genitive case after 
^^hospes^^ than the dative after '' splendet ; ** but 
for practical purposes the two come to the same 
thing, both being included in the full development 
of the thought ; and a translation which represents 
either is substantially a true translation. I have 
omitted four Odes altogether, one in each Book, 
and some stanzas of a fifth ; and in some other in- 
stances I have been studiously paraphrastic. Nor 
have I thought it worth while to extend my trans- 
ation from the Odes to the Epodes. The Epodes 
were the production of Horace's youth, and pro- 



xxxiv PREFACE, 

bably would not have been much cared for by pos- 
terity if they had constituted his only title to fame. 
A few of them are beautiful, but some are revolting, 
and the rest, as pictures of a roving and sensual 
passion, remind us of the least attractive portion of 
the Odes. In the case of a writer like Horace it is 
not easy to draw an exact line; but though in 
the Odes our admiration of much that is graceful 
and tender and even true may balance our moral 
repugnance to many parts of the poet's philosophy 
of life, it does not seem equally desirable to dwell 
minutely on a class of compositions where the beau- 
ties are fewer and the deformities more numerous 
and more undisguised. 

I should add that any coincidences that may be 
noticed between my version and those of my prede- 
cessors are, for the most part, merely coincidences. 
In some cases I may have knowingly borrowed a 
rhyme, but only where the rhyme was too common 
to have created a right of property. 



PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION. 

AM very sensible of the favour which 
has carried this translation from a first 
tion into a second. The interval 
between the two has been too short 
to admit of my altering m; judgment in any 
large number of instances ; but I have been glad to 
employ the present opportunity in amending, aa I 
hope, an occasional word or expression, and, in one 
or two cases, recasting a stama. The notices which 
my book has received, and the opinions communi- 
cated by the kindness of friends, have been gratify- 
ing to me, both in themselves, and as showing the 
interest which is being felt ia the subject of Horatian 
translation. It ia not surprising that there should 
be considerable differences of opinion about the 
manner in which Horace is to be rendered, and also 
about the metre appropriate to particular Odes ; but 



ixiri PREFACE. 

I need not say that it ia througli such discusaion 
that qnestians Ikke these advaace towards settlemeDt. 
It wotdd indeed be a sstiafaction to me to think that 
the queatioD of translatiiig Horace had been In^ught 
a step nearer to ita eolutJon bj the experiment which 
I again venture to aubmit to the public. 



PREFACE TO THIRD EDITION. 

HE changes which I have made in this 
impression of my translation are some- 
what more numerous than those which 
I was ahle to introduce into the last, 
as might he expected from the longer interval he- 
tween the times of puhlication ; hut the work may 
still he spoken of as suhstantiallj unaltered. 





THE ODES OF HORACE. 



41^1^ 



THE ODES OF HORACE. 



MeBcenas atavis. 

M^C EN AS, bom of monarch ancestors. 
The ehield at ouce and glor; of my 

life! 
There are who joy them in the 
Olympic strife 
And love the dnst they gather in the conree ; 
The goal by hot wheels ahunn'd, tho famous prize. 
Exalt them to the gods that rule mankiiid; v 
This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind 
Through triple grade of honoura bid him rise. 
That, if hie granary has stored away 

Of Libya's thousand floors the yield entire ; 
The man who digs hie field as did his aire, 
With honest pride, no Attains may sway 
By profier'd wealth to tempt Myrtoan seas. 
The timorous captain of a Cyprian bark. 



2 ODES OF HORACE. 

The winds that make Icarian billows dark 
The merchant fears, and hngs the mral ease 
Of his own village home ; but soon, ashamed 

Of penury, he refits his batter*d craft. 

There is, who thinks no scorn of Massic draught, 
Who robs the daylight of an hour unblamed. 
Now stretched beneath the arbute on the sward, 

Now by some gentle river's sacred spring ; 

Some love the camp, the clarion's joyous ring, 
And battle, by the mother's soul abhorr'd. 
See, patient waiting in the clear keen air. 

The hunter, thoughtless of his delicate bride, 

Whether the trusty hounds a stag have ^yed, 
Or the fieroe Marsian boar has burst the snare. 
To me the artist's meed, the ivy wreath 

Is very heaven : me the sweet cool of woods, 

Where Satyrs frolic with the Nymphs, gecludes 
From rabble rout, so but Euterpe's breath 
Fail not the flute, nor Polyhymnia fly 

Averse from stringing new the Lesbian lyre. 

0, write my name among that minstrel choir, 
And my proud head shall strike upon the sky ! 

11. 

Jam satis terris, 

T^ NOUGH of snow and hail at last 
"^ The Sire has sent in vengeance down : 
His bolts, at His own temple cast, 
Appall'd the town, 



BOOK I. \^ 

Appaird the lands, lest Fyrrha's time 

Eetnm, with all its monstrons sights, 
When Proteos led his flocks to climb 

The flattened heights, 
When fish were in the elm-tops caught, ' 

Where once the stock-doye wont to bide, 
And does were floating, all distraught, 

Adown the tide. 
Old Tiber, hurPd in tumult back 

From mingling with the Etruscan main, 
Has threaten'd !Numa's court with wrack 

And Vesta's fane. 
Boused by his Ilia's plaintive woes, 

He vows revenge for guiltless blood. 
And, spite of Jove, his banks o'erflows, 

Uxorious flood. 
Yes, Fame shall tell of civic steel 

That better Persian lives had spilt. 
To youths, whose minish'd numbers feel 

Their parents' guilt. 
What god shall Eome invoke to stay 
Her fall P Can supplianqe overbear 
The ear of Vesta, tum'd away 

From chant and prayer P 
Who comes, commission'd to atone 

For crime like ours P at length appear, 
A cloud round thy bright shoulders thrown, 

Apollo seer ! 
Or Venus, laughter*loving dame, 
Bound whom gay Loves and Pleasures fly ; 



A 






y ^ ODES OF HORACE. 

Or thou, if sUghted sons may claim 

A parent's eye, 
O weary with thy long, long game. 

Who lov'st fierce shouts and helmets bright, 
And Moorish warrior's glance of flame 

Or e'er he smite ! 
Or Maia's son, if now awhile 

In youthful guise we see thee here, 
Csesar's avenger — such the style 
Thou deign'st to bear ; 
Late be thy journey home, and long 
Thy sojourn with Rome's family ; 
Nor let thy wrath at our great wrong 

Lend wings to fly. 
Here take our homage. Chief and Sire ; 

Here wreathe with bay thy conquering brow. 
And bid the prancing Mede retire, 
Our CsBsar thou ! 



III. 
Sic te Diva, 

n^HUS may Cyprus' heavenly queen, 

Thus Helen's brethren, stars of brightest 

sheen, 
Guide thee ! May the Sire of wind 

Each truant gale, save only Zephyr, bind ! 
So do thou, fair ship, that ow'st 

Virgil, thy precious freight, to Attic coast, 



BOOK I. 5 

Safe restore thy loan and whole, 
And save from death the partner of my sonl ! 

Oak and brass of triple fold 
Encompassed sure that heart, which first made bold 

To the raging sea to trust 
A fragile bark, nor fear'd the Afric gast 

With its Northern mates at strife, 
Nor Hyads' frown, nor South-wind fury-rife. 

Mightiest power that Hadria knows, 
Wills he the waves to madden or campose. 

What had Death in store to awe 
Those eyes, that huge sea-beasts unmelting saw, 

Saw the swelling of the surge, 
And high Oeraunian clifis, the seaman's scourge ? 

Heaven's high providence iij^^vain 
Has severed countries with the estranging. main, 

If our vessels ne'ertheless 
With reckless plunge tfiat sacred bar tr ansgr ess. 

Daring all, their goal €o'win, ' 
Men tread forbidden ground, and rush on sin : 

Daring all, Prometheus play'd 
His wi ly ga me, and fire to manconvey'd ; 

Soon as fire was stolen away. 
Pale Fever's stranger host and wan Decay 

Swept o'er earth's polluted face, 
And slow Fate quicken 'd Death's once halting pace. 

Dsadalus the void air tried 
On wings, to humankind by Heaven denied ; 

Acheron's bar gave way with ease 
Before the arm of labouring Hercules. 



6 ODES OF HORACE. 

Nooght is there for man too high ; 
Our impioos folly e'en would climb the sky, 

Braves the dweller on the steep, 
Nor lets the bolts of heavenly vengeance sleep. 



IV. 

Solvitur acris hiems. 

nnHE touch of Zephyr and of Spring has loosen 'd 
^ Winter's thrall ; 

The well-dried keels are wheel'd again to sea: 
The ploughman cares not for his fire, nor cattle for 
their stall. 
And frost no more is whitening all the lea. 
Now Oytherea leads the dance, the bright moon 
overhead; 
The Graces and the Nymphs, together knit. 
With rhythmic feet the meadow beat, while Vul- 
can, fiery red, 
Heats the Cyclopian forge in jEtna's pit. 
'Tis now the time to wreathe the brow with branch 
of myrtle green, 
Or flowers, just opening to the vernal breeze ; 
Now Faunus claims his sacrifice among the shady 
treen. 
Lambkin or kidling, which soe'er he please. 
Pale Death, impartial, walks his round : he knocks 
at cottage-gate 



BOOK I. 7 

\ 

And palace-portaL Sestins, child of bliss ! 

How should a mortaVs hopes be long, when short 

his being's date p 

Lo here ! the fabulous ghosts, the dark abyss, 

The void of the Plutonian hall, where soon as e'er 

you go, 

No more fpr you shall leap the auspicious die 

To seat you on the throne of wine ; no more your 

breast shall glow 

For Lycidas, the star of every ^ye. 



V. 

f 

Quis multa gracilis, 

"X 1 PHAT slender youth, besprinkled with per- 
* ^ fume, 

. Courts you on roses in some grotto's shade ? 
Fair Pyrrha, say, for whom 
Tour yellow hair you braid, 
So trim, so simple ! Ah ! how oft shall he 
Lament that faith can fail, that gods can 
change. 
Viewing the rough black sea ^ 

With eyes to tempests strange. 
Who now is basking in your golden smile. 
And dreams of you still fancy-free, still kind, 
Poor fool, nor knows the guile 
Of the deceitful wind ! 



8 ODES OF HORACE. 

Woe to the eyes you dazzle without cloud 
Untried ! For me, they show in yonder fane 
My dripping garments, vow'd 
To Him who curbs the main. 



Scriberis Vario, 

"IVr OT I, but Varius : — ^he, of Homer's brood 

A tuneful swan, shall bear you on his 
wing, 
Your tale of trophies, won by field or flood, 

Mighty alike to sing. 
Not mine such themes, Agrippa ; no, nor mine 
To chant the wrath that fill'd Pelides' breast. 
Nor dark Ulysses' wanderings o*er the brine, 

Nor Pelops* house unbleat. 
Yast were the task, I feeble ; infSbrA ^rjjame. 

And she, who makes the pJkaidfdJC^Sm submit, 
Forbid me to impair gr.at cSs &me 

And yours by my weak wit. 
But who may fitly sing of Mars array'd 

In adamant mail, or Merion, black with dust 
Of Troy, or Tydeus' son by Pallas' aid 

Strong against gods to thrust ? 
Feasts are my theme, my warriors maidens fair, 

Who with pared nails encounter youths in fight ; 
Be Fancy free or caught in Cupid's snare. 
Her temper still is light. 



BOOK L 9 



vn. 

Laudabunt alii, 

T ET others Ehodes or MytHene sing, 
"^^ Or Ephesus, or Corinth, set between 
Two seas, or Thebes, or Delphi, for its king 

Each famous, or Thessalian Tempe green ; 
There are who make chaste Pallas* virgin tower 

The daily burden of unending song. 
And search for wreaths the olive's rifled bower ; 

The praise of Juno sounds from many a tongue, 
Telling of Argos' steeds, Mycenes's gold. 

For me stem Sparta forges no such spell, 
No, nor Larissa's plain of richest mould. 

As bright Albunea echoing from her cell. 
headlong Anio ! O Tibumian groves. 

And orchards saturate with shifting streams ! 
Look how the clear fresh south from heaven removes 

The tempest, nor with rain perpetual teems ! 
You too be wise, my Plancus : life's worst cloud 

Will melt in air, by mellow wine allay*d. 
Dwell you in camps, with glittering banners proud, 

Or *neath your Tibur's canopy of shade. 
When Teuoer fled before his father^s frown 

From Salamis, they say his temples deep 
He dipp'din wine, then wreath'dw,ith poplar crown, 

And bade his comrades lay their grief to sleep : 



10 ODES OF HOE AGE. 

" Where Fortune bears us, than my sire more kind, 

There let us go, n^y own, my gallant crew, 
"lis Teucer leads, 'tis. Teucer breathes the wind ; 

No more despair; Apollo's word is true. 
Another Salamis in kindlier air 

Shall yet arise. Hearts, that have borne 
with me 
Worse buffets ! drown to-day in wine your care ; 

To-morrow we recross the wide, wide sea ! " 

VIII. 

Lydia, die per omnes, 

T YDIA, by all above, 

'^^ Why bear so hard on Sybaris, to ruin him 
with love ? 
What change has made him shun 
The playing-ground, who once so well could bear 
the dust and sun ? 
Why does he never sit 
On horseback in his company, nor with uneven bit 

His Gallic courser tame ? 
Why dreads he yellow Tiber, as 'twould sully 
that fair frame ? 
Like poison loathes the oil, 
His arms no longer black and blue with honour- 
able toil. 
He who erewhile was known 
For quoit or javelin oft and oft beyond the limit 
thrown P 



BOOK I. 11 

Why skulks he, ae they say 
Did Thetis* son before the dawn of Dion's &tal day, 

For fear the manly dress 
Should fling him into danger*s arms, amid the 
Lycian press P 



IX. 
Vides ut alta. 

O EE, how it stands, one pile of snow, 
^^ Soracte ! !neath the pressure yield 
Its groaning woods ; the torrents' flow 

With clear sharp ice is all congeal'd. 
Heap high the logs, and melt the cold, 

Good Thaliarch ; draw the wine we ask, 
That mellower vintage, four-year-old. 

From out the cellared Sabine cask; 
The future trust with Jove ; when He 

Has stiird the warring tempests' roar 
On the vex'J deep, the cypress-tree 

And aged ash are rock*d no more. 
O, ask not what the mom will bring, 

But count as gain each day that chance 
May give you ; sport in life's young spring, 

Nor scorn sweel? love, nor merry dance, 
While years are green, while sullen eld 

Is distant. Now the walk, the game. 
The whisper'd talk at sunset held. 

Each in its hour, prefer their claim. 



12 ODES OF HORACE. 

Sweet too the laugh, whose feign*d alarm 
The hiding-place of beauty tells, 

The token, ravish'd from the arm 
Or finger, that but ill rebels. 



Mercuri facunde, 

/^EA:NDS0N of Atlas, wise of tongue, 
^-^ Mercury, whose wit could tame 
Man's savage youth by power of song 

And plastic game ! 
Thee sing I, herald of the sky. 

Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet, 
Hiding whate'er might please thine eye 

In frolic cheat. 
See, threatening thee, poor guileless child, 

Apollo claims, in angry tone, 
His cattle ; — ^all at once he smiled. 

His quiver gona 
gtrong in thy guidance. Hector's sire 

Escaped the Atridae, pass'd between 
Thessalian tents and warders' fire, 

Of all unseen. 
Thou lay 'st unspotted souls to rest ; 

Thy golden rod pale spectres know ; 
Blest power ! by all thy brethren blest, 

Above, below ! 



BOOK I. 13 



XL 
Tw iw qucBsieris, 

A SK not ('tis forbidden knowledge), what our 

destined term of years, 
Mine and yours ; nor scan the tables of your 

Babylonish seers. 
Better far to bear the future, my Leuconoe, like 

the past, 
Whether Jove has many winters yet to give, or 

this our last ; 
This, that makes the Tyrrhene billows spend 

their strength against the shore. 
Strain your wine and prove your wisdom ; life is 

short ; should hope be more p 
In the moment of our talking, envious time has 

ebb'd away. 
Seize the present; trust to-morrow e'en as little 

as you may. 



XII. 

Quern virum aut heroa, 

TT TTTAT man, what hero, Clio sweet, 
^ ^ On harp or flute wilt thou proclaim? 
What god shall echo's voice repeat 
In mocking game 



14 ODES OF HORACE. 

To Helicon's sequester'd shade, v 

Or Pindus, or on HsBmns chill, 
Where once the hurrying woods o b^ y'd 

The minstrers will. 
Who, by his mother's gift of song, 

Held the fleet stream, the rapid breeze, 
And led with blandishment along 

The listening trees P 
Whom praise we first P the Sire on high. 

Who gods and men unerring guides, 
Who rules the sea, the earth, the sky. 

Their times and tides. 
No mightier birth may He beget ; 

No like, no second has He known ; 
Tet nearest to her sire's is set 

Minerva's throne. 
Nor yet shall Bacchus pass unsaid. 

Bold warrior, nor the virgin foe 
Of savage beasts, nor Phoebus, dread 

With deadly bow. 
Alcides too shall be my theme. 

And Leda's twins, for horses he. 
He famed for boxing ; soon as gleam 

Their stars at sea. 
The lash'd spray trickles from the steep. 

The wind sinks down, the storm-cloud flies, 
The threatening billow on the deep 

Obedient lies. 
Shall now Quirinus take his turn, 
Or quiet Numa, or the state 



BOOK L 15 

Proud Tarquin held, or Cato gtem, 

By death made great ? 
Ay, Eegulus and the Scaoriau name, 
And PauUus, who at CanhsB gave 
His glorious soul, fair record claim, 

For all were brave. 
Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee, 

Eough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard. 
Your sires* transmitted poverty 

To conquest reared. 
Marcellus' fame, its up-growth hid, 

Springs like a tree ; great Julius' light 
Shines, like the radiant moon ainid 

The lamps of nights 
Dread Sire and Guardian of man*s race, 

To Thee, Jove, the Fates assign 
Our CaBsar's charge ; his power and place 

Be next to Thine. 
Whether the Parthian, threatening Rome, 

His eagles scatter to the wind. 
Or follow to their eastern home 

Cathay and Ind, 
Thy second let him rule below : 

Thy car shall shake the realms above ; 
Thy vengeful bolts shall overthrow 
Each guilty grove. 



16 ODES OF HORACE. 



XIIL 
Cum tu, Lydia, 

'T*BLEPHUS— you pradse him stm, 

Bis. waxen arms, his rosy-tinted neck ; 

Ah ! and all the while I thrill 
With jealous pangs I cannot, cannot check. 

See, my colour comes and goes, 
My poor heart flutters, Lydia, and the dew, 

Down my cheek soft stealing, shows 
What lingering torments rack me through and 
through. 

Oh, *tis agony to see 
Those snowwhite shoulders scarr'd in drunken 
fray, 

Or those ruby lips, where he 
Has left strange marks, that show how rough his 
play! 

Never, never look to find 
A faithful heart in him whose rage can harm 

Sweetest lips, which Yenus kind 
Has tinctured with her quintessential charm. 

Happy, happy, happy they I 

Whose living love, untroubled by all strife, ^ j 

Binds them till the last sad day, j 

Nor parts asunder but with parting life ! 



\ 

V 



BOOK I. 17 



XIV. 
navis, referent, 

OLUOKILBSS bark 1 new waves will force you 
back I 

To sea. 0, baste to mak^ tbe baven yours ! • 

E'en now, a belpless wrack, ; 

You drift, despoil'd of oars ; i 

•Tbe Afric gale bas dealt your mast a wound; 

Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain, J 

Till lasb'd witb cables round, 
A more imperious main. 
Your canvass bangs in ribbons, rent and torn ; 
No gods are le(t to pray to in fresb need. 
A pine of Pontus bom 
Of noble forest breed. 
You boast your name and lineage— madly blind ! 
Can painted timbers quell a seaman's fear ? 
Beware ! or else tine wind 
Makes you its mock and jeer. 
Your trouble late made sick tbis beart of mine, 
And still I love you, still am ill at ease. 
0, shun tbe sea, wbere sbine 
The thick-sown Cyclades ! 



18 ODES OF HORACE. 



XV 
Pastor cum traheret. 

AT 7HEK the false swain was hurrying o'er the 
deep 
His Spartan hostess in the IdsBan bark. 
Old Nereas laid the unwilling winds asleep, 

That all to Fate might hark, 
Speaking through him: — "Home in ill hour you 
take ' 

A prize whom Greece shall claim with troops 
untold, 
Leagued by an oath your marriage tie to break 

And Priam's kingdom old. 
Alas ! what deaths you launch on Dardan realm ! 
What toils are waiting, man and horse to tire! 
See ! Pallas trims her SBgis and her helm, 

Her chariot and her ire. 
Vainly shall you, in Venus* favour strong, 

Your tresses comb, and for your dames divide 
On peaceful lyre the several parts of song ; 

Vainly in cham^r hide 
From spears and' Gnossian arrows, barb*d with 
fate» 
And battle's din, and Ajax'in the chase 
Unconquer'd ; those adulterous locks, though late, 
Shall gory dust deface. 



(Z^/L 



BOOK L 19 

Haork ! 'tis the death-cry of your race ! look back ! 

Ulysses comes, and Pylian Nestor grey ; 
See ! Salaminian Teucer on your track, 

And Sthenelus, in the fray 
Versed, or with whip and rein, should need require, 
No laggard. Merion too your eyes shall know 
From far. Tydides, fiercer than his sire, 

Pursues you, all aglow ; 
Him, as the stag forgets to graze for fright. 
Seeing the wolf at distance in the glade. 
And flies, high panting, you shall fly, despite 

Boasts to your leman made. 
What though Achilles* wrathful fleet postpone 
The day of doom to Troy and Troy's proud 
dames. 
Her towers shall fall, the number 'd winters flown, 
Wrapp'd in A^jhsaan flames." 



XYI. 
jD matre jpulchra. 

r\ LOVELIER than the lovely dame 
^^ That bore you, sentence as you please 
Those scurril verses, be it-flame 

Your vengeance craves, or Hadrian seas. 
Not Oybele, nor he that haunts 

Eich Pytho, worse the brain confounds. 
Not Bacchus, nor the Oorybants 

Clash their loud gongs with fiercer sounds 



20 ODES OF HORACE. 

Than savage wrath ; nor sword nor spear 

Appals it, no, nor ocean's frown, 
Nor ravening fire, nor Jupiter 

In hideous ruin crashing down. 
Prometheus, forced, they say, to add 

To his prime clay some favourite part 
From every kind, took lion mad. 

And lodged its gall in man's poor heart. 
'Twas wrath that laid Thyestes low ; 

'Tis wrath that oft destruction calls 
On cities, and invites the foe 

To drive his plough o'er ruin'd walls. 
Then calm your spirit ; I can tell 

How once, "^hen youth in all my veins 
Was glowing, blind with rage, I fell ^ 

On friend and foe in ribald stradns. 
Come, let me change my sour for sweet, 

And smile complacent as before : 
Hear me my palinode repeat, 

And give me back your heart once more. 



xvn. 

Vehx amcmum. 

*T*HE pleasures of Lucretilis 
^ Tempt Faunus from his Grecian seat ; 
He keeps my little goats in bliss 

Apart from wind, and rain, and heat. 



BOOK L 21 

In safety rambling o'er the sward 

For arbutes and for thyme they peer, 
The ladies of the nnfragrant lord, 

Nor vipers, green with venom, fear. 
Nor savage wolves, of Mars* own breed. 

My Tyndaris, while Ustica's dell 
Is vocal with the silvan reed. 

And mnsic thrills the limestone fell. 
Heaven is my gnardian ; Heaven approves 
^ A blameless life, by song made sweet ; 
Gome hither, and the fields and groves 

Their horn shall empty at your feet. 
Here, shelter'd by a friendly tree. 

In Teian measures you shall sing 
Bright Circe and Penelope, jf 

Love-smitten both by one sharp sting. |g 

Here shall you quaff beneath the shade 4^ 

Sweet Lesbian draughts that injure none, ^ 

Nor fear lest Mars the realm invade ^ 

Of Semele's Thyonian son, JJ 

Lest Cyrus on a foe too weak *^ 

Lay the rude hand of wild excess, ^ 

His passion on your chaplet wreak, 2^ 

Or spoil your undeserving dress. ^ 



22 ODES OF HOE ACE. 



xvni. 

Nullam, Vare, 

T /"ARUS, are your trees in planting? put in 
y none before the vine, 

In the rich domain of Tibur, by the walls of 
Gatilus ; 
There's a power above that hampers all that sober 
brains design, 
And the troubles man is heir to thus are quelPd, 
and only thus. 
Who can talk of want or warfare when the wine is 
in his head, 
Not of thee, good father Bacchus, and of Yenus 
fair and bright P 
But should any dream of licence, there's a lesson 
may be read, 
How 'twas wine that drove the Centaurs with 
the LapithsB to fight. 
And the Thracians too may warn us ; truth and 
falsehood, good and ill, 
How they mix them, when the wine-god's hand 
is heavy on them laid ! 
Never, never, gracious Bacchus, may I move thee 
'gainst thy will. 
Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy 
shade! 



BOOK I. 23 

Silence thou thy savage cymbals, and the Berecyn- 
tine horn ; 
In their train Self-love still follows, dully, des- 
perately bUnd, 
And Vain-glory, towering upwards in its empty- 
headed scorn, 
And the Faith that keeps no secrets, with a 
window in its mind. 



XIX. 

Mater sceva Cupidinum, 

/^^UPID'S mother, cruel dame, 

^^ And Semele*s Theban boy, and Licence bold, 

Bid me kindle into flame 
This heart, by waning passion now left cold. 

O, the charms of Glycera, 
That hue, more dazzling than the Parian stone ! 

O, that sweet tormenting play. 
That too fair face, that blinds when looked upon ! 

YenuB comes in all her might. 
Quits Cyprus for my heart, nor lets me tell 

Of the Parthian, bold in flight, 
Nor Scythian hordes, nor aught that breaks her 
spell. 

Heap the grassy altar up. 
Bring vervain, boys, and sacred frankincense ; 

Fill the sacrificial cup ; 
A victim's blood will soothe her vehemence. 



24 ODES OF HORACE. 



Vile potabis. 

]VrOT large my cups, nor rich my cheer, 
^ ^ This Sabine wine, which erst I seal'd. 
That day the applauding theatre 

Your welcome peal'd, 
Dear knight Msscenas ! as 'twere fain 

That your paternal river's banks, 
And Vatican, in sportive strain, 

Should echo thanks. • 
For you Oalenian grapes are press'd, 
And Oadcuban ; these cups of mine 
Falemum's bounty ne'er has bless'd, 
Nor Formian vine. 



XXL 

Dianam tenercB. 

/^F Bian's praises, tender maidens, tell ; 
^-^ Of Oynthus* unshorn god, young strip- 
. lings, sing; 
And bright Latona, well 

Beloved of Heaven's high Eing. 
Sing her that streams and silvan foliage loves, 
Whate'er on Algidus' chill brow is seen. 
In Erymanthian groves 

Dark-leaved, or Cragus green. 






BOOK I. 2 

Sing Tempe too, glad youths, in strain as loud, 
And Phoebus' birthplace, and that shoulder fr 
His golden quiver proud 
And brother's lyre to bear. 
His arm shall banish Hunger, Plague, and War 
To Persia and to Britain's coast, away 
From Eome and Gadsar far. 
If you have zeal to pray. 



XXTT. 

Integer vvtoB, 

IVTO need of Moorish archer's craft 

To guard the pure and stainless liver ; 
He wants not, Fuscus, poison'd shaft 

To store his quiver. 
Whether he traverse Libyan shoals. 
Or Caucasus, forlorn and horrent. 
Or lands where far Hydaspes rolls 

His fabled torrent. 
A wolf, while roaming trouble-free 
In Sabine wood, as fancy led me, 
Unarm'd I sang my Lalage, 
Beheld, and fled me. 
Dire monster I in her broad oak woods 

Fierce Daunia fosters none such other« 
Nor Juba's land, of lion broods 
The thirsty mother. 



26 ODES OF HORACE. 

Place me where on the ice-bonnd plain 

No tree is cheer*d by summer breezes, 
Where Jove descends in sleety rain , 

Or sullen freezes ; 
Place me where none can live for heat, 

*Neath Phoebus' very chariot plant me, 
That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet. 
Shall still enchant me. 



XXIII. 

Vitas hinnuleo. 

"W'OU fly me, Ohloe, as o'er trackless hills 
•^ A young fawn runs her timorous dam to 
find. 
Whom empty terror thrills 

Of woods and whispering wind. 
Whether 'tis Spring's first shiver, faintly heard 
Through the light leaves, or lizards in the brake 
The rustling thorns have stirr'd, 
Her heart, her knees, they quake. 
Yet I, who chase you, no grim lion am, 
No tiger fell, to crush you in my gripe : 
Gome, learn to. leave your dam, 
For lover's kisses ripe. 



i 



V. 



BOOK I. 27 



XXIV. 

Qms desiderio. 

"l 1 7HT blnsh to let our tears imineasured fall* 
^ ^ For one so dear P Begin the moumfiil 

stave, 
Melpomene, to wHom the Sire of all 
Sweet voice with music gave. 
And sleeps he then the heavy sleep of death, 

Quintilius P Piety, twin sister dear 
Of Justice ! naked Truth ! unsullied Faith ! 

When will ye find his peer P 
By many a good man wept, Quintilius dies ; 

By none than you, my Virgil, trulier wept : 
Devout in vain, you chide the faithless skies. 

Asking your loan ill-kept. 
No, though more suasive than the bard of Thrace 
You swept the lyre that trees were fain to hear, 
Ne'er should the blood revisit his pale face 

JVliom once with wand severe 
Mercury has folded with the sons of night, 

Untaught to prayer Fate's prison to unseal. 
Ah, heavy grief ! but patience makes more light 
What sorrow may not heal. 



28 ODES OF HORACE. 



XXVI. 

Musis amicus, 

T^HE Muses love me : fear and grief, 
-*■ The winds may blow them to the sea; 
Who quail before the wintry chief 

Of Scythia's realm, is nought to me. 
What cloud o'er Tiridates lowers, 

I care not, I. 0, nymph divine 
Of virgin springs, with sunniest flowers 

A chaplet for my Lamia twine, 
Pimplea sweet ! my praise were vain 

Without thee. String this maiden lyre. 
Attune for him the Lesbian strain, 

O goddess, with thy sister quire h 



xxvn. 

Notts in usum, 

T 1 yTHAT, fight with cups that should give joy P 
^ " *Tis barbarous ; leave such savage ways 
To Thracians. Bacchus, shamefaced boy. 

Is blushing at your bloody frays. 
The Median sabre ! lights and wine ! 

Was stranger contrast ever seen P 
Cease, cease this brawling, comrades mine. 

And still upon your elbows lefbn. 



BOOK I. 29 

Well, shall I take a toper's part 

Of fierce Falemian ? let our guest, 
Megilla's brother, say what dart 

Gave the death-wound that makes him blesl. 
He hesitates P no other hire 

Shall tempt my sober brains. Whatever 
The goddess tames you, no base fire 

She kindles ; 'tis some gentle fair 
Allures you still. Come, tell me truth, 

And trust my honour. — That the name ? 
That wild Oharybdis yours P Poor youth ! 

0, you deserved a better flame ! 
What wizard, what Thessalian spell, 

What god can save you, hamper'd thus P 
To cope with this OhimsBra fell 

Would task another Pegasus. 



XXYin. 

Te maris et terrce. 

nPHE sea, the earth, the innumerable sand, 

Archytas, thou couldst measure ; now, alas ! 
A little dust on Matine shore has sjpann'd 

That soaring spirit ; vain it was to pass 
The gates of heaven, and send thy soul in quest 

O'er air's wide realms ; for thou hadst yet to die. 
Ay, dead is Pelops' father, heaven's own guest. 

And old Tithonus, rapt from earth to sky, 



80 ODES OF HORACE. 

And Minos, made the council-friend of Jove ; 

And Panthus' son has yielded up his breath 
Once more, though down he pluck'd the shield, to 
prove 

His prowess under Troj, and hade grim death 
O'er skin and nerves alone exert its power, 

Not he, you grant, in nature meanly read. 
Yes, all " await the inevitable hour ; " 

The downward journey all one day must 
tread. 
Some bleed, 1k) glut the war-god's savage eyes ; 

Fate meets the sailor from the hungry brine ; 
Youth jostles age in funeral obsequies ; 

Each brow in turn is touch'd by Proserpine. 
Me, too, Orion's mate, the Southern blast, 

Whekn*d in deep death beneath the lUyrian 
wave. 
But grudge not, sailor, of driven sand to cast 

A handful on my head, that owns no grave. 
So, though the eastern tempests loudly threat 

Hesperia's main, may green Venusia's crown 
Be stripp'd, while you lie warm; may blessings 
yet 

Stream from Tarentum's guard, great Keptune, 
down. 
And gracious Jove, into your open lap ! 

What ! shrink you not from crime whose 
punishment 
Falls on your innocent children ? it may hap 

Imperious Fate will mskke yourself repent. 



BOOK L 31 

My prayers shall reach the avengers of all wrong ; 

No expiations shall the corse nnbind. 
Great though yonr haste, I wonld not task you 
long; 

Thrice sprinkle dnst, then scud before the wind. 



XXIX. 

led, beads, 

\70UIt heart on Arab wealth is set, 

Good Iccius : yon wonld try your steel 
On Saba's kings, nnconqner*d yet, 

And make the Mede your fetters feel. 
Come, tell me what barbarian fair 

Will serve you now, her bridegroom slain P 
What page from court with essenced hair 

Will tender you the bowl you drain, 
Well skill'd to bend the Serian bow 

His father carried? Who shall say 
That rivers may not uphill flow. 

And Tiber's self return one day, 
Kyou would change Panastius* works, 

That costly purchase, and the clan 
Of Socrates, for shields and dirks. 

Whom once we thought a saner man P 



32 ODES OF HORACE. 



Venus. 

/^OME, Onidian, Faphian Venus, come, 
^ Thy weU-beloved OypruB spurn, 
Haste, where for thee in Qlycera's home 

Sweet odours burn. 
Bring too thy Cupid, glowing warm, 

Graces and Nymphs, unzoned and free. 
And Youth, that lacking thee lacks charm. 

And Mercury. 



XXXL 

Quid dedieatum. 

"XT THAT blessing shall the bard entreat 

^ ^ The god he hallows, as he pours 

The winecup P Not the mounds of wheat 

That load Sardinian threshing floors ; 
Not Indian gold or ivory — ^no. 

Nor flocks that o'er Calabria stray,* 
Nor fields that Liris, still and slow, 

Is eating, unperceived, away. 
Let those whose fate allows them train 

Calenum's vine ; let trader bold 
From golden cups rich liquor drain 

For wares of Syria bought and sold. 



BOOK L 33 

Heaven's favourite, sooth, for thrice a-year 

He comes and goes across the brine 
Undamaged. I in plenty here 

On endives, mallows, succory dine. 
grant me, Phoebus, calm content, 

Strength unimpaired, a mind entire, 
Old age without dishonour spent, 

Nor unbefriended by the lyre ! 



XXXIL 

Poscimur. 

T^HEY call ;— if aught in shady deU 

We twain have warbled, to remain 
Long months or years, now breathe, my shell, 

A Eoman strain. 
Thou, strung by Lesbos' minstrel hand, 
The bard, who 'mid the clash of steel. 
Or haply mooring to the strand 

His batter'd keel, 
Of Bacchus and the Muses sung, 

And Cupid, still at Venus' side, 
And Lycus, beautiful and young, 

Dark-hair'd, dark-eyed. 
sweetest lyre, to Phoebus dear, 
Delight of Jove's high festival. 
Blest bahn in trouble, hail and hear 
Whene'er I call ! 

D 



34 ODES OF ffOBACK 



xxxni. 

Albi, ne ddUaa^ 

T 1 rSAT, Albius ! why this passionate despair 
^ • For cmel Glycera P why melt your voice 
In dolorous strains, because the perjured fsdr 

Has made a younger choice P 
See, narrow-brow'd Lycoris, how she glows 
For Cyrus ! Cyrus turns away his head 
To Fholoe*s firown ; but sooner gentle roes 

Apulian wolves shall wed. 
Than Pholoe to so mean a conqueror strike : 

So Yenus wills it ; 'neath her brazen yc^e 
She loves to couple forms and minds unlike, 

All for a. heartless joke. 
For me sweet Love had forged a milder spell; 

But Myrtale still kept me her fond slave, 
More stormy she than the tempestuous swell 
That crests Calabria's wave. 



XXXIV. 

Parous deorum, 

A 4" Y prayers were scant, my offerings few, 
**• "^ While witless wisdom fooPd my mind ; 
But now I trim my sails anew. 
And trace the course I left behind. 



BOOK I. 36 

For lo ! the Sire of heaven on high, 

By whose fierce bolts thei3londs are riven, 
To-day through an nnclonded sky 

His thnndermg steeds and car has driven. 
E'en now dall earth and wandering floods, 

And Atlas' limitary range, 
And Styx, and TaBnams' dark abodes 

Are reeling. He can lowliest change. 
And loftiest ; bring the mighty down 

And lift the weak ; with whirring flight 
Gomes Fortnne, plucks the monarch's crown. 

And decks therewith some meaner wight. 



XXXV. 

Diva, gratum, 

T ADY of Antium, grave and stem I '^r 

■^ Gk>ddess, who canst lift the low 
'To high estate, and sudden turn 

A triumph to a funeral show ! 
Thee the poor hind that tills the soil 

Implores ; their queen they own in thee, 
Who in Bithynian vessel toil 

Amid the vex'd Carpathian sea. 
Thee Dadans fierce, and. Scythian hordes. 

Peoples and towns, and Borne, their head. 
And mothers of barbarian lords. 

And tyrants in their purple dread. 



36 ODES OF HORACE, 

Lest, spnm'd by thee in scorn, should fall 

The state's tall prop, lest crowds on fire 
To arms, to arms ! the loiterers call. 

And thrones be tmnbled in the mire. 
Necessity precedes thee still 

With hard fierce eyes and heavy tramp : 
Her hand the nails and T^edges fill. 

The molten bead and stubborn clamp. 
Hope, precious Truth in garb of white, 

Attend thee still, nor quit thy side 
When with changed robes thou tak'st thy flight 

In anger from the homes of pride. 
Then the false herd, the faithless fair, 

Start backward ; when the wine runs dry, 
The jocund guests, too light to bear 

An equal yoke, asunder fiy.>. 
shield our Gassar as he goes 

To furthest Britain, and his band, 
Eome's harvest ! Send on Eastern foes 

Their fear, and on the Bed Sea strand ! 
wounds that scarce have ceased to run ! 

brother's blood ! iron time ! 
What horror have we left undone ? 

Has conscience shrunk from aught of crime ? 
What shrine has rapine held in awe ? 

What altar spared? haste and beat 
The blunted steel we yet may draw 

On Arab and on Massagete ! 



BOOK I. 37 



XXXVI. 

Et ihure, etfidihus, 

T> ID the lyre and dttem play ; 

^-^ Enkindle incense, shed the victim's gore ; 

Heaven has watch'd o'er Numida, 
And brings him safe from far Hispania's shore. 

Now, returning, he bestows 
On each dear comrade all the love he can ; 

Bat to Lamia most he owes. 
By whose sweet side he grew from boy to man. 

Note we in our calendar 
This festal day with whitest mark from Crete : 

Let it flow, the old wine-jar. 
And ply to Salian time your restless feet. 
^ Damalis tosses off her wine, 
But Bassus sure must prove her match to-night. 

Give us roses all to twine. 
And parsley green, and lilies deathly white. 

Every melting eye will rest 
On Damalis' lovely face ; but none may part 

Damalis from our new-found guest ; 
She clings, and clings>. like ivy, round his he^. 



38 ODES OF HORACE. 



XXXVTI. 

Nunc est hibendum. , 

TVrOW drink we deep, now featly tread 
•*■ ^ A measure ; now before each shrine 
With Salian feasts the table spread; 

The time invites us, comrades mine. 
'Twas shame to broaoh, before to-day, 

The GsBcuban, while Egypt's dame 
Threatened our power in dust to lay 

And wrap the Capitol in flame. 
Girt with her foul emasculate throng. 

By Fortune's sweet ^ew wine befool'd. 
In hope's ungoyem'd Weakness strong 

To hope for all ; but soon she cool'd. 
To see one ship from burning 'scape ; 

Great GsBsar ^ught her dizzy brain, 
Made mad by Mareotic grape. 

To feel the soberu^ truth of pain. 
And gave her chase fi^Hn Italy, 

As after doves fierce i^ons speed. 
As hunters 'neath HsBmonia's sky 

Chase the tired hare, so might he lead 
The fiend enchain'd ; Bhe sought to die 

More nobly, nor with woman's dread 
Quail'd at the steel, nor timorously 

In her fleet ships to covert fled. 



BOOK L 39 

Amid her nun'd ||alls she stood 

Unblenoh'd, and fearless to the end 
Grasp'd the fell snakes, that all her blood 

Might with the cold black venom blend, 
Death's purpose flushing in her face ; 

Nor to our ships the glory gave, 
That she, no yulgar dame, should grace 

A triumph, crowntoss, and a slave. 



xyxviii> 

Persicos odi, 

TVJO Persian cumber, boy, for me ; 

^^ I hate your garlands linden-plaited ; 

Leave winter's rose where on the tree 

It hangs belated. ^ 

Wreath me plain myrtle ; never think ' 
Fhdn myrtle either's wear unfitting, 
Yours as you wait, mine as I drink 
In vine-bower sitting. 




BOOK II. 



L 
Motum, ex Metello. 




^HE broils that from Metellus date, 
The secret springs, the dark intrigues, 
The freaks of Fortune, and the great 
Confederate in disastrous leagues. 
And arms with uncleansed slaughter red, 

A work of danger and distrust. 
You treat, as one on fire should tread 

Scarce hid by treacherous ashen crust. 
Let Tragedy's stem muse be mute 

Awhile ; and when your order'd page 
Has told Rome's tale, that buskin'd foot 

Again shall mount the Attic stage, 
Pollio, the pale defendant's shield, 
In deep debate the senate's stay, 
The hero of Dalmatic field 

By Triumph crown'd with deathless bay. 
E'en now with trumpet's threatening blare 
You thrill our ears ; the clarion brays ; 



BOOK 11. 41 

The lightnings of the armour scare 

The steed, and daunt the rider* s gaze. 
Methinks I hear of leaders proud . 

With no uncomely dust distain'd, 
And all the world by conquest bow*d, 

And only Oato's soul unchain'd. 
Yes, Juno and the powers on high I 

That left their Afric to its doom, J 

Have led the victors' progeny > 

As victims to Jugurtha*s tomb. ? 

What field, by Latian blood-drops fed, { 

Proclaims not the unnatural deeds r 

It buries, and the earthquake dread * 

Whose distant thunder shook the Medes ? ; 

What gulf, what river has not seen f 

Those sights of sorrow ? nay, what sea 
Has Daunian carnage yet left green P 

What coast from Roman blood is free P * 

But pause, gay Muse, nor leave your play [ 

Another Cean dirge to sing ; \ 

With me to Venus' bower away, j 

And there attune a lighter string. 



42 ODES OF HORACE. 



Ntdhis argento. 

THE silver, Sallnst, shows not &ir 
While buried in the greedy mioe : 
You love it not till moderate wear 

Have given it shine. 
Honour to Froculeius ! he 

To brethren play'd a father's part ; 
Fame shall embalm through years to be 

That noble heart. 
Who curbs a greedy soul may boast 

More power than if his broad-based throne 
Bridged Libya's sea, and either coast 

Were all his own. 
Indulgence bids the dropsy grow;/ 

Who fain would quench the palate's flame 
Must rescue from the watery foe 
The pale weak frame. 
Fhraates, throned where Gyras-sate, 

May count for blest with vulgar herds, 
But not with Yirtue ; soon or late 

From lying words 
She weans men's lips; for him she keeps 

The crown, the purple, and the bays, 
Who dares to look on treasure-heaps 
With unblench'd gaze. 



\ 



BOOK 11. 43 



.^!qtiam memento, 

\ N eqnal mind, when storms o'erclond, 
'^^ Maintain, nor 'neath a brighter sky 
Let pleasure make your heart too proud, 

Dellins, Dellins ! sure to die, 
Whether in gloom yon spend each year. 

Or through long holydays at ease 
In grassy nook your spirit cheer 

With old Falemian vintages, 
Where poplar pale, and i)ine-tree high 

Their hospitable shadows spread 
Entwined, and panting waters try 

To hurry down their zigzag bed. 
Bring wine and scents, and roses' bloom, 

Too brief, alas ! to that sweet place. 
While life, and fortune, and the loom 

Of the Three Sisters yield you grace. 
Soon must you leave the woods you buy. 

Your villa, washed by Tiber's flow. 
Leave, — and your treasures, heap'd so high, 

Your reckless heir will level low. 
Whether from Argos' founder bom 

Li wealth you lived beneath the sun, 
Or nursed in beggary and scorn, 

You fall to Death, who pities none. 



f 



y 



44 ODES OF HORACE. 

One way all travel ; the dark um 

Shakes each man's lot, that soon or late 

Will force him, hopeless of return, 
On board the exile-ship of Fate. 



IV. 

Ne sit andllcB. 

^1 THY, Xanthias, blnsh to own you love 
^ Your slave P Briseis, long ago, 

A captive, could Achilles move 
With breast of snow. 
Tecmessa's charms enslaved her lord. 

Stout Ajax, heir of Telamon ; 
Atrides, in his pride, adored 
The maid he won. 
When Troy to Thessaly gave way. 

And Hector's all too quick decease 
Made Pergamus an easier prey 

To wearied Greece. 
What if, as auburn Phyllis' mate, 

You graft yourself on regal stem ? 
Oh yes ! be sure her sires were great ; 

She weeps for them. 
Believe me, from no rascal scum 

Your charmer sprang ; so true a flame. 
Such hate of greed, could never come 
From vulgar dame. 



\ 

BOOK II. 45 



With honest fervour I commend 

Those lips, those eyes ; yon need not fear 
A riyal, hurrying on to end 
His fortieth year. 






SepUmif Oades, 

\ C BPTIMIUS, who with me would brave 
^^ Far Gades, and Gantabrian land 
Untamed by Eome, and Moorish wave 

That whirls the sand ; 
Fair Tibur, town of Argive kings, 

There would I end my days serene, 
At rest from seas and travellings, 

And service seen. 
Should angry Fate those wishes foil. 

Then let me seek'Galesus, sweet 
To skin-clad sheep, and that rich soil. 

The Spartan's seat. 
0, what can match the green recess, 
Whose honey not to Hybllfc yields, 
Whose olives vie with those that bless 

Venafrum*s fields ? 
Long springs, mild winters glad that spot 
By Jove's good grace, and Aulon, dear 
To fruitful Bacchus, envies not 
Falemian cheer. 



46 ODES OF HORACE. 

That spot, those happj heights desire 

Onr sojoam ; there^ when life shall end. 
Your tear shall dew my yet warm pyre, 
Yoor bard and friend. 



VIL 
saspe mecum. 

OOFT with me in tronblous time 
9 Involved, when Bmtns warr'd in Ghreece, 
Who gives you back to yoor own dime 

And your own gods, a man of peace, 
Fompey, the earliest friend I knew. 

With whom I oft cut short the hours 
With wine, my hair bright bathed in dew 

Of Syrian oils, and wreathed with flowers ? 
With you I shared Philippi's rout. 

Unseemly parted from my shield. 
When Yalour fell, and warriors stout 

Were tumbled on the inglorious field : 
But I was sayed by Mercury, 

Wrapp'd in thick mist, yet trembling sore. 
While you to that tempestuous sea 

Were swept by battle's tide once more. 
Gome, pay to Jove the feast you owe ; 

Lay down those limbs, with warfare spent, 
Beneath my laurel ; nor be slow 

To drain my cask; for you 'twas meant. 



BOOK 11. 47 

Lethe's tme draught is Massic wine ; 

Fill high the goblet ; poor ont free 
Bich streams of nngaent. Who will twine 

The hasty wreath from myrtle-tree 
Or parsley P Whom will Venus seat 

Chairman of caps ? Are Bacchants sane P 
Then I'll be sober. 0, 'tis sweet 

To fool, when friends come home again I 



vm 

UUa 81 juris. 

HAD chastisement for perjured tmth, 
Barine, mark*d yon with a curse — 
Did one wry nail, or one black tooth, 

But make you worse — 
I'd trust you ; but, when plighted lies 

Have pledged you deepest, lovelier far 
You sparkle forth, of all young eyes * 

The ruling star. 
'Tis gun to mock your mother's bones. 

And night's stiU signs, and all thd sky. 
And gods, that on their glorious thrones 

Chill Death defy. 
Ay, Venus smiles ; the pure nymphs smile. 

And Cupid, tyrant-lord of hearts. 
Sharpening on bloody stone the while 
His fiery darts. 



48 ODES OF HORACE. 

New captives fill the nets you weave ; 

New slaves are bred ; and those before, 
Though oft they threaten, never leave 

Tour godless door. 
The mother dreads you for her son, 

The thrifty sire, the new-wed bride, 
Lest, lured by you, her precious one 
Should leave her side. 



IX. 

Non semper imbres. 

'T^HE rain, it rains not every day 
•*- On the soak'd meads ; the Caspian mi^ 
Not always feels the unequal sway 

Of storms, nor on Armenia's plain. 
Dear Yalgius, lies the cold dull snow 

Through all the year ; nor northwinds keen 
Upon Garganian oakwoods blow. 

And strip the ashes of their green. 
You still with tearful tones pursue 

Your lost, losli Mystes ; Hesper sees 
Your passion when he brings the dew. 

And when before the sun he flees. 
Yet not for loved Antilochus 

Grey Nestor wasted all his years 
In grief; nor o'er young Troilus 

ffis parents' and his sisters' tears 



BOOK 11. 

» 

For ever flow'd. At length have done 

With these soft sorrows ; rather tell 
Of CsBsar's trophies newly won, 

And hoar Niphates* icy fell, 
And Medus* flood, 'mid conquer'd tribes 

Boiling a less presnmptnoas tide, 
And Scythians taught, as Borne prescribes. 

Henceforth o'er narrower steppes to ride. 



X. 

Rectius vives. 

T lOINIUS, trust a seaman's lore: 

— ' Steer not too boldly to the deep, 
Nor, fearing storms, by treacherous shore 

Too closely creep. 
Who makes the golden mean his guide, 

Shuns miser's cabin, foul and dark. 
Shuns gUded roofs, where pomp and pride 

Are envy's mark. 
With fiercer blasts the pine's dim height 

Is rock'd ; proud towers with heavier f|^l 
Crash to the ground ; and thunders smite 

The mountains tall. 
In sadness hope, in gladness fear 

'Gainst coming change will fortify 

Your breast. The storms that Jupiter 

Sweeps o'er the sky 

£ 



50 ODES OF HORACE. 

He chases. Why should rain to-day 

Bring rain to-morrow ? Python's foe 
Is pleased sometimes his lyre to play, 

Nor bends his bow. 
Be brave in trouble ; meet distress 

With dauntless front ; but when the gale 
Too prosperous blows, be wise no less,. 
And shorten saiL 



XI. 

Quid heUicostts. 

/^ ASK not what those sons of war, 
^^ Oantabrian, Scythian, each intmid. 
Disjoined from us by Hadrians bar, 

Nor puzzle, Quintius, how to spend 
A life so simple. Youth removes. 

And Beauty too ; and hoar Decay 
Drives out the wanton tribe of Loves 

And Sleep, that came or night or day. 
The sweet spring-flowers not always keep 

Their bloom, nor moonlight shines the same 
Each evening. Why with thoughts too deep 

O'ertask a mind of mortal frame p 
Why not, just thrown at careless ease 

*Neath plane or pine, our locks of grey 
Perfumed with Syrian essences 

And wreathed with roses, while we may, 



V 

N 



BOOK IL 51 

Lie drinking P Bacchus puts to shame 

^e cares that waste us. Where's the slave 
To quench the fierce Falemian*s flame 

With water from the passing wave? 
Who'll coax coy Lyde from her home ? 

Go, bid her take her ivory lyre, 
The runaway, and haste to come, 

Her wild hair bound with Spartan tire. 



XII. 

Nolis Tonga feras, 

nPHE weary war where fierce Numantia bled, 

Fell Hannibal, the swoln Sicilian main 
Purpled with Punic blood — not mine to wed 

These to the lyre's soft strain, 
Nor cruel Lapithae, nor, mad with wine. 

Centaurs, nor, by Herculean arm o'ercome, 
The earth-bom youth, whose terrors dimm'd the 
shine 
Of the resplendent dome 
Of ancient Saturn. You, Mascenas, best 

In pictured prose of Caesar's warrior feats 
Will tell, and captive kings with haughty crest 

Led through the Boman streets. 
On me the Muse has laid her charge to tell 

Of your Licymnia's voice, the lustrous hue 
Of her bright eye, her heart that beats so well 
To mutual passion true : 



/ 



52 ODES OF HORACE. 

How noaght she does but lends her added grace, 
Whether she dance, or join in bantering play, 
Or with soft arms the maiden choir embrace 

On great Diana's day. 
Say, would you change for all the wealth pes Rest 

By rich Achsemenes or Phrygia's heir, 
Or the full stores of Araby the blest. 
One lock of her dear hair, 
While to your burning lips she bends her neck, 

Or with kind cruelty denies the due 
She means you not to beg for, but to take, 
Or snatches it from you ? 



XIII. 

lUe et nefasto. 

"D LACK day he chose for planting thee, 
•^ Accurst he rear'd thee from the ground, 
The bane of children yet to be. 

The scandal of the village round. 
His father^s throat the monster press'd 

Beside, and on his hearthstone spilt, 
I ween, the blood of midnight guest ; 

Black Colchian drugs, whatever of guilt 
Is hatch'd on earth, he dealt in all — 

Who planted in my raral stead 
Thee, fatal wood, thee, sure to fall 

Upon thy blameless master's head. 



BOOK 11. 53 

The dangers of the hour ! no thought 

We give them ; Punic seaman's fear 
Is all of Bosporus, nor aught 

Becks he of pitfalls otherwhere ; 
The soldier fears the mask'd retreat 

Of Parthia ; Parthia dreads the thrall 
Of Rome ; but Death with noiseless feet 

Has stolen and will steal on all. 
How near dark Pluto's court I stood, 

And Macas' judicial throne, 
The blest seclusion of the good, 

And Sappho, with sweet lyric moan 
Bewailing her ungentle sex. 

And thee, AIcsbus, louder far 
Chanting thy tale of woful wrecks, 

Of woful exile, woful war ! 
In sacred awe the silent dead 

Attend on each : but when the song 
Of combat tells and tyrants fled. 

Keen ears, press'd shoulders, closer throng. 
What marvel, when at those sweet airs 

The hundred-headed beast spell-bound 
Each black ear droops, and Furies' hairs 

Uncoil their serpents at the sound ? 
Prometheus too and Pelops' sire 

In listening lose the sense of woe ; 
Orion hearkens to the lyre, 

And lets the lynx and lion go. 



54 ODES OF HORACE. 



XIV. 

Eheu, fugacec, 

A H, Postumus ! they fleet away, 
"^ *" Our years, nor piety one hour 
Can win from wrinkles and decay, 

And Beatk's indomitable power ; 
Not though three hundred bullocks flame 

Each year, to soothe the tearless king 
Who holds huge Geryon's triple frame 

And Tityos in his watery ring, 
That circling flood, which all must stem. 

Who eat the fruits that Nature yields, 
Wearers of haughtiest diadem. 

Or humblest tillers of the fields. 
In vain we shun war's contact red 

Or storm-tost spray of Hadrian main : 
In vain, the season through, we dread 

For our frail lives Scirooco's bane. 
Cocytus' black and stagnant ooze 

Must welcome you, and Danaus* seed 
ni-famed, and ancient Sisyphus 

To never-ending toil decreed. 
Your land, your house, your lovely bride 

Must lose you ; of your cherish'd trees 
None to its fleeting master's side 

Will cleave, but those sad cypresses. 



BOOK II. 55 

Your heir, a larger sonl, will drain 
The hnndred-padlock'd GaBCuban, 

And richer spilth the pavement stain 
Than e'er at pontifiTs sapper ran. 



XY. 

Jam j^auca aratro. 

T^EW roods of ground the piles we raise 
-■' Will leave to plough ; ponds wider spread 
Than Lncrine lake will meet the gaze 

On every side ; the plane unwed 
Will top the elm ; the violet-bed, 

The myrtle, each delicious sweet, 
On olive-grounds their scent will shed, 

Where once were fruit-trees yielding meat ; 
Thick bays will screen the midday range 

Of fiercest suns. Kot such the rule 
Of Bomulus, and Oato sa^e. 

And all the bearded, good old school. 
Each Eoman*s wealth was little worth* 

His country's much; no colonnade 
For private pleasanoe wooed the North 

With cool " prolixity of shade." 
None might the casual sod disdain 

To roof his home ; a town alone. 
At public charge, a sacred fane 

Were honour'd with the pomp of stone. 



ODES OF HORACE. 



Otiian divoB. 

■pOB ease, in wide ^geau canght. 

The sailor praye, when cloudB are biding 
The moon, nor Bhinea of Btarlight aught 

For Beaman's guiding: 
For ease the Mede, with quiver gay; 

For ease rude Thrace, in battle cruel ; 
Can purple buy it, Groaphua ? Nay, 

Nor gold, nor jewel. 
No pomp, no lictor clearajihe way 

'Mid labble-routa <^ troublous feelings, 
Nor quells the carea that sport and play 

Koand gUded ceilings. 
Uore happy he whose modest bom^ 

His father's well-worn eilver brightens ; 
No fear, nor lust for sordid hoard. 
His light steep Mghtens. 
Why bend our bows of little span P 

Why change our homes for regions under 
Another sun P What exiled mftn 
From self oaa sunder P 
Care climbs the bark, and trims the sail, 

nor troops of horse can 'scape her, 
a. stag, more swift than gale 
drives the vapour. 



BOOK 11. 57 

Blest in the present, look not forth 

On ills beyond, but soothe each bitter 
With slow, calm smUe. No suns on earth 

Unclouded glitter. 
Achilles' U^ht was qnench'd at noon ; 

A long decay Tithonns minish'd ; 
My hoar0, it may be, yet will run 
When yonrs are finish'd. 
For you Sicilian heifers low, 

Bleat countless flocks ; for you are neighing 
Proud coursers ; Afric purples glow 

For your arraying 
With double dyes ; a small domain, 

The soul that breathed in Grecian harping. 
My portion these ; and high disdain 
Of ribald carping. 



xvn. 

Cur me querelis. 

XILTHY rend my heart with that sad sigh ? 
^ ^ It cannot please the gods or me 
That yon, Mflacenas, flrst should die. 

My pillar of prosperity. 
Ah I should I lose one half my soul 

Untimely, can the other stay 
Behind it ? Life that is not whole, 

Is tThot as sweet P The self-same day 



58 ODES OF HOBAGK 

Shall crush as twam ; no idle oath 

Has Horace sworn ; whene'er you go, 
We both will travel, travel both 

The last dark jonmey down below. 
No, not ChimsBra's fiery breath, 

Nor Gyas, conld he rise again, 
Shall part us ; Justice, strong as death, 

So wills it ; so the Fates ordain. 
Whether 'twas Libra saw me bom 

Or angry Scorpio, lord malign 
Of natal hour, or Capricorn, 

The tjrrant of the western brine. 
Our planets sure with concord strange 

Are blended. Tou by Jove's blest power 
Were snatoh'd from out the baleful range 

Of Saturn, and the evil hour 
Was stay'd, when rapturous benches full 

Three times the auspicious thunder peal'd ; 
Me the curst trunk, that smote my skull. 

Had slain ; but Faunus, strong to shield 
The friends of Mercury, check'd the blow 

In mid descent. Be sure to pay 
The victims and the fane you owe; 

Your bard a humbler lamb will slay. 



BOOK II. 59 



xvin. 

Non ebur. 

/^AEVifiN ivory hare I none ; 

Ko golden cornice in my dwelling shines ; 

Pillars choice of Libyan stone 
Upbear no architrave from Attic mines ; 

'Twas not mine to enter in 
To Attains' broad realms, an unknown heir, 

Nor for me fair clients spin 
Laconian pnrples for their patron's wear. 

Tmth is mine, and Genius mine ; 
The rich man comes, and knocks at my low door : 

Favour'd thus, I ne'er repine, 
Nor weary out indulgent Heaven for more : 

In my Sabine homestead blest. 
Why should I further tax a generous friend P 

Suns are hunying suns a- west, 
And newborn moons make speed to meet their end. 

You have hands to square and hew 
Vast marble-blocks, hard on your day of doom, 

Ever building mansions new. 
Nor thinking of the mansion of the tomb. 

Now you press on ocean's bound, 
Where waves on Baiee beat, as earth were scant ; 

Now absorb your neighbour's ground, 
And tear his landmarks up, your own to plant. 



60 ODES OF HORACE. 

Hedges set round clients' farms 
Your avarice tramples ; see, the outcasts fly, 

Wife and husband, in their arms 
Their fathers' gods, their squalid family. 

Yet no hall that wealth e'er plann'd 
Waits you more surely than the wider room 

Traced by Death's yet greedier hand. 
Why strain so far P you cannot leQ»p the tomb. 

Earth removes the impartial sod 
Alike for beggar and for monarch's child : 

Nor the slave of Hell's dark god 
Oonvey'd Prometheus back, with bribe beguiled. 

Pelops he and Pelops* sire 
Holds, spite of pride, in close captivity ; 

Beggars, who of labour tire, 
Gall'd or uncall'd, he hears and sets them free. 



XIX. 

Bact^wm in remotis. 

T> AOOHUS I saw in mountain glades 

Retired (believe it, after years I) 
Teaching his strains to Dryad maids. 

While goat-hoof d satyrs prick'd their ears. 
Evoe ! my eyes with terror glare ; 

My heart is revelling with the god ; 
'Tis madness ! Evoe ! spare, spare, 

Dread wielder of the ivied rod ! 



BOOK 11. 61 

Yes, I may sing the Thyiad crew, 

The stream of wine, the sparkling rills 
That run with milk, and honey-dew 

That from the hollow trunk distils ; 
And I may sing thy consort's crown, 

K"ew set in heaven, and Pentheus' hall 
With ruthless ruin thundering down, 

And proud Lycurgus' funeral. 
Thou tum*st the rivers, thou the sea ; 

Thou, on far sunmiits, moist with wine. 
Thy Bacchants' tresses harmlessly 

Dost knot with living serpent-twine. 
Thoxi, when the giants, threatening wrack, 

Were clambering up Jove's citadel, 
Didst hurl o'erweening Bhoetus back. 

In tooth and claw a Hon fell. 
Who knew thy feats in dance and play 

Deem'd thee belike for war's rongh game 
Unmeet : but peace and battle-fray 

Found thee, their centre, still the same. 
Grim Cerberus wagg'd his tail to see 

Thy golden horn, nor dream*d of wrong, 
But gently fawning, followed thee, 

And Hck'd thy feet with triple tongue. 



62 ODES OF HORACE. 



Non usitata, 

"\T0 vulgar wing, nor weakly plied, 

^ Shall bear me through the liquid sky ; 

A two-form*d bard, no more to bide 

Within the range of envy's eye 
'Mid haunts of mm. I, all ungraced 

By gentle blood« I, whom you call 
Your friend, Madcenas, shall not taste 

Of death, nor chafe in Lethe's thrall. 
E'en now a rougher skin expands 

Along my legs : above I change 
To a white bird ; and o^er my hands 

And shoulders grows a plumage stiteige : 
Fleeter than Icarus, see me float 

O'er Bosporus, singing as I go, 
And o'er Geetulian sands remote. 

And Hyperborean fields of snow ; 
By Dacian horde, that masks its fear 

Of Marsic steel, shall I be known, 
And ftirthest Scythian : Spain shall hear 

My warbling, and the banks of Ehone. 
No dirges for my fancied death; 

No weak lament, no mournful stave ; 
All clamorous grief were waste of breath. 

And vain the tribute of a grave. 




BOOK III. 

I. 

Odi profanum. 

BID the nnhallow'd crowd' avannt ! 

Keep holy silence ; strains unknown 
Till now, the Mnses' hierophant, 
I sing to yonths and maids alone. 
Kings o'er their flocks the sceptre wield ; 
E^en kings beneath Jove's sceptre bow : 
Victor in giant battle-field, 

He moves all nature with his brow. 
This man his planted walks extends 
Beyond his peers ; an older name 
One to the people's choice commends ; 
One boasts a more unsullied fam(3 ; 
One plumes him on a larger crowd 

Of clients. What are great or small P 
Death takes the mean man with the proud ; 

The fatal urn has room for all. 
When guilty Pomp the drawn sword see.*? 
Hung o'er her, richest feasts in vain 



MiiSH^HBi.^ I 



64 ODES OF HORACE. 

Strain their sweet juice her taste to please ; 

No lutes, no singing birds again 
Will bring her sleep. Sleep knows no pride ; 

It scorns not cots of village hinds, 
Nor shadow-trembling river-side, 

Nor Tempe, stirr'd by western winds. 
Who, having competence, has all, 

The tumult of the sea defies. 
Nor fears Arcturus' angry fall, 

Nor fears the Ead-star's sullen rise, 
Though hail-storms on the vineyard beat, 

Though crops deceive, though trees complain. 
One while of showers, one while of heat. 

One while of winter's barbarous reign. 
JPish feel the narrowing of the main 

From sunken piles, while on the strand 
Contractors with their busy train 

Let down^ huge stones, and lords of land 
Affect the sea : but fierce Alarm 

Can clamber to the master's side.: 
Black Cares can up the galley swarm, 

And close behind tb^ horseman ride. 
If Phrygian marbles soothe not pain. 

Nor star-bright purple's costliest wear. 
Nor vines of true Falemian strain. 

Nor AchaBmenian spices rare. 
Why with rich gate and pillar'd range 

Upbuild new mansions, twice as high, 
Or why my Sabine vale exchange 

For more laborious luxury P 



I 



BOOK III. 65 



n. 

Angtustam amice, 

'T^O sttffer hardnesB with good oheer, 
'*' In sternest school of warfare bred, 
Onr yonth should learn ; let steed and spear 

Make him one day the Forthian's dread ; 
Gold skies, keen perils, brace his Ufa 

Methinks I see from rampired town 
Some battling tyrant's matron wife, 

Some maiden, look in terror down, — 
** Ah, my dear lord, untrain'd in war ! 

tempt not the infdriate mood 
Of that fell lion ! see ! from far 

He plunges through a tide of blood !" 
What joy, for fatherland to die ! 

Death's darts e'en flying feet o'ertake, 
Nor spare a recreant chivalry, 

A back that cowers, orloins that quake. 
Trae Virtue never knows defeat: 

Her robes she keeps unsullied still. 
Nor takes, nor quits, her curule seat ^ 

To please a people's veering will. 
True Virtue opens heaven to worth : 

She makes the way she does not find : 
The vulgar crowd, the humid earth, 

Her soaring pinion leaves behind. 



66 ODES OF HOBAGK 

Seal'd lips have blessings stire to come i 

Who drags Eleusis' rite to-day,- 
'Chat man shall never share my home, 

Or join my voyage : roofs give way 
And boats are wreck'd : trae men and thieves 

I^egl^ted .fSSfice oft confounds : 
Though Yeng^Euaoe halt, she seldom leaves 

The wretch whose flying steps she hounds. 



in. 

Justum et tenacem, 

'T^HE man of firm and righteous will, 
-*- No rabble, clamorous for the wrong. 
No tyrant's brow, whose frown may Idll, 

Can shake the strength that makes him strong 
Not winds, -that chafe the sea they «way, 

Nor Jove's right hand, with lightning red : 
Should Nature's pillar'd frame give way. 

That wreck would strike one fearless head. 
Pollux and roving Hercules 

Thus won their way to Heaven's proud steep, 
'Mid whom Augustus, couch'd at ease, 
. Dye& his red lips with nectar deep. 
For this, great Bacchus, tigers drew 

Thy glorious car, puitaught to slave 
In harness : thus Quirinus flew 

On Mars' wing'd steeds from Acheron's wave, 



BOOK III. 67 

When Juno spoke with Heaven's assent : 

" ninzn, Iliam, "wretched town ! 
The jndge accarst, incontinent, 

And stranger dame have dragg'd thee down 
Pallas and I, since Friam^s sire 

Denied the gods his pledged reward, 
Had doomed them all to sword and fire, . 

The people and their perjured lord. 
1^0 more the adnlterous gnest can (^arm 

The Spartan qneen ; the house forsworn 
No more repels by Hector's arm 

My warriors, baffled and ontwom : 
Hosh'd is the war our strife made long : 

I welcome now, my hatred o*er^- 
A grandson in the child of wrong, ' 

Him whom the Trojan priestess bore. 
Beceive him, Mars ! the gates of fiame 

May open i let him taste f(»:given 
The nectar, and enrol his name 

Among the peaceful ranks of Heaven. 
Let the wide waters sever still 

Hium and Bome, the exiled race 
May reign and prosper where they will ; 

So but in Paris' boiial-plaoe 
The cattle sport, the wild beasts hide 

Their cubs, the Capitol may stand 
AH bright, and Eome in warlike pride 

O^er Media stretch a conqueror's hand. 
Aye, let her scatter far and wide 

Her terror, where the land-lock'd waves 



68 ODES OF HORACE. 

Europe from Afric's shore divide. 

Where swelling Nile the oom-field laves — 
Of strength more potent to disdain 

Hid gold, best bnried in the mine, 
Than gather it with hand profane, 

That for man's greed would rob a shrine. 
Whate'er the bound to earth ordain'd, 

There let her reach the arm of power, 
Travelling, where raves the fire unrein'd, 

And where the storm-cloud and the shower. 
Yet, warlike Koman, know thy doom, 

Nor, drunken with a conqueror's joy, 
Or blind with duteous zeal, presume 

To build again ancestral Troy. 
Should Troy revive to hateful life, 

Her star again should set in gore, 
While I, Jove's sister and his wife. 

To victory led my host once more. 
Though FhoBbus thrice in brazen mail 

Should case her towers, they thrice should fall, 
Storm'd by my Greeks : thrice wives should wail 

Husband and son, themselves in thrall." 
— Such thunders from the lyre of love ! 

Back, wayward Muse ! refrain, refrain 
To tell the talk of gods above, 

And dwarf high themes in puny strain. 



BOOK III. 69 



IV. 

Descende ecelo, 

/'**OMB donwb, Calliope, from above : 
^^ Breathe on the pipe a strain of fire : 
Or if a graver note thou love. 

With Phoebns' cittern and his lyre. 
You hear her? or is this the play 

Of fond illusion ? Hark! meseems 
Through gardens of the good I strtiy, 

'Mid murmuring gales and purling stl-eams 
Me, as I lay on Vultur*s steep, 

A truant jyast Apulia's bound, 
Overtired, poor child, with play and sleep, 

With living green the stock-doves erown'd 
A legend, nay, a miracle. 

By Acherontia's nestlings told. 
By all in Bantine glade that dwell. 

Or till the rich Forentan mould. 
" Bears, vipers, spared him as he lay. 

The sacred garland deck*d his hair. 
The myrtle blended with the bay : 

The child's inspired : the gods were there." 
Your grace, sweet Muses, shields me still 

On Sabine heights, or lets me range 
Where cool PrsBueste, Tibur's hill, 

Or liquid Baisd proffers change. 



70 ODES CF HOB ACE. 

Me to your springs, your dances true, 

Fhilippi bore not to the ground, 
Nor the doom*d tree in falling slew, 

Nor billowy Palinurus drown'd. 
Grant me your presence, blithe and fain 

Mad Bosporus shall my bark explore ; 
My foot shall tread the sandy plain 

That glows beside Assyria's shore ; 
'Mid Briton tribes, the stranger's foe. 

And Spaniards, drunk with horses' blood, 
And quivered Scythians, will I go * 

Unharm'd, and look on Tanais' flood. . 
When Gffisar's self in peaceful town 

The weary veteran's home has made, 
You bid him lay his helmet down 

And rest in your Pierian shade. 
Mild thoughts you plant, and joy to see 

Mild thoughts take root. The nations know 
How with descending thunder He 

The impious Titans hurl'd below, 
Who rules dull earth and stormy seas. 

And towns of men, and realms of pain. 
And gods, and mortal companies. 

Alone, impartial in his reign. 
Yet Jove had fear'd' the giant rush, 

Their upraised arms, their port of pride. 
And the twin brethren bent to push 

Huge Pelion up Olympus' side. 
But Typhon, Mimas, what could these. 

Or what Porphyrion's stalwart soom^ 



BOOK HI. 71 

BhcBtus, or he whose spears were trees, 

Encel&das, firom earth nptom. 
As on they msh^d in mad career 

'Gainst Pallas* shield ? Here met the foe 
Fierce Vulcan, queenly Juno here, 

And he who ne*er shall quit his bow, 
"Who laves in clear Oastalian flood 

His .locks, and loves the leafy growth 
Of Lycia next his native wood. 

The Belian and the Pataran both. 
Strength, mindless, falls by its own weight ; 

Strength, mix'd with mind, is made more strong 
By the just gods, who surely hate 

The strength whose thoughts are set on wrong. 
Let hundred-handed Gyas bear 

His witness, and Orion known 
Tempter of Dian, chaste and fair. 

By Dian's maiden dart o'erthrown. 
Hurl'd on the monstrous shapes she bred. 

Earth groans, and mourns her children thrust 
To OrcuB ; ^tna*8 weight of lead 

Keeps down the fire that breaks its crust ; 
Still sits the bird on Tityos' breast, 

The warder of unlawful love ; 
Still Buffers lewd Pirithous, prest 

By massive chains no hand may move. 



72 ODES OF HORACE. 



V. 

CcbIo tonanUm, 

• 

JOYE rales in heaven, his thunder shows ; 
Henceforth Angastns earth shall own 
Her present god, now Briton foes 

And Persians bow before his throne. 
Has Crassns' soldier ta*en to wife 

A base barbarian, and grown grey 
(Woe, for a nation's tainted life !) 

Earning his foemen-kinsmen's pay, 
His king, forsooth, a Mede, his sire 

A Marsian ? can he name forget, 
Gown, sacred shield, nndying fire. 

And Jove and Borne are standing yet ? 
'Twas this that Begalns foresaw. 

What time he spum'd the foul disgrace 
Of peace, whose precedent would draw 

Destruction on an unborn race, 
Should aught but death the prisoner's chain 

Unrivet. " I have seen," he said, 
'* Eome's eagle in a Funic fane. 

And armour, ne'er a blood-<£(^p shed, 
Stripp'd from the soldier ; I have seen 

Free sons of Eome with arms fast tied ; 



BOOK III. 73 

The fields we spoil'd with com are green, 

And Carthage opes her portals wide. 
The warrior, sure, redeem'd by gold, 

Will fight the bolder ! Aye, you heap 
On baseness loss. The hues of old 

Bevisit not the wool we steep ; 
And genuine worth, ezpell'd by fear, 

Betums not to the worthless slave. 
Break but her meshes, will the deer 

Assail you ? then will he be brave 
Who once to faithless foes has knelt ; 

Yes, Carthage yet his spear will fly, 
Who with bound arms the cord has felt. 

The coward, and has fear'd to die. 
He knows not, he, how life is won ; 

Thinks war, like peace, a thing of trade I 
Great art thou, Carthage ! mate the sun, 

While Italy in dust is laid !" 
Kis wife's pure kiss he waved aside. 

And prattling boys, as one disgraced, 
They tell us, and with manly pride 

Stem on the ground his visage placed. 
With counsel thus ne'er else aread 

He nerved the fathers' weak intent. 
And, girt by Mends that moum'd him, sped 

Into illustrious banishment. 
Well witting what the torturer's art 

Design'd him, with like unconcern 
The press of kin he push'd apart 

And crowds encumbering his return, 



74 ODES OF HORACE. ' 

As though, dome tedious business o'er 
Of clients' oxmrt, his journey lay 

Towards Venafrum's grassy floor. 
Or Sparta-built Tarentum's bay. 



VL 

Delicta majorum* 

"VTOUE fathers' guilt you still must pay. 
Till, Boman, you restore each shrine, 
Each temple, mouldering in decay. 

And smoke-grimed statue, scarce divine. 
Bevering Heaven, you rule below ; 

Be.that your base, your coping still ; 
*Tis Heaven neglected bids o'emow 

The measure of Italian ill. 
Now Facorus and Monseses twice 

Have given our unblest arms the foil ; 
Their necklaces, of mean device. 

Smiling they deck with Eoman spoil. 
Our city, torn by faction's throes, 

Dacian and Ethiop well-nigh razed. 
These with their dreadful navy, those 

For archer-prowess rather praised. 
An evil age erewhile debased 

The marriage-bed, the race, the home ; 
Thence rose the flood whose waters waste ' 

The nation and the name of Eome. 



ROOK II L 75 

Not Bach their birth, who stained for xja 

The sea with Funic carnage red. 
Smote Fjrrhtus, smote Antiochuis, 

And Hannibal, the Soman's dread. 
Theirs was a hardy soldier-brood, 

Inured all day the land to till 
With Sabine spade, then shoulder wood 

Hewn at a stem old mother's will. 
When sunset lengthened from each height 

The shadows, and unyoked the steer, 
Bestoring in its westward flight 

The hour to toil worn travail dear. 
What has not cankering Time made worse ? 

Yiler than grandsires, sires beget 
Ourselyes, yet baser, soon to curse 

The world with ofispring baser yet. 



vn. 

QuidfleSy Astene, 

\\J"BY weep for him whom sweet Favonian airs 
Will waft next spring, Asteria, back to you, 
Bich with Bithynia's wares, 
A lover fond and true, 
Tour Gyges ? He, detained by stormy stress 
At Oricum, about the Goat-star's rise. 
Gold, wakeful, comfortless, 

night weeping lies. 



76 ODES OF HOBAOE. 

Meantime his lovesick hoetess' messenger 

Talks of the flames that waste poor Ghloe's heart 
(Flames lit for yon, not her ! ) 
With a besieger's art ; 
Shows how a treaoherons woman's lying breath 
Onoe on a time on tmstfnl Froetos won 
To doom to early death 
Too chaste Bellerophon ; 
Warns him of Feleas' peril, all bat slain 
For virtuons scorn of fair Hippolyta, 
And tells again each tale 
That e'er led heart astray. 
In yain ; for deafer than Icarian seas 
Ke hears, nntainted yet. But, lady fair, 
What if Enipens please 

Your listless eye ? beware ! 
Though true it be that none with surer seat 
O'er Mars's grassy turf is seen to ride, 
Nor any swims so fleet 
Adown the Tuscan tide. 
Yet keep each evening door and window barr'd; 
Look not abroad when music strikes up shrill, 
And though he call you hard, 
Bemain obdurate stilL 



BOOK III. 77 



vm. 

Martiis coelehs, 

'T'HB first of March ! a man nnwed ! 
^ What can these flowers, this censer mean P 
Or what these embers, glowing red 

On sods of green ? 
You ask, in either language skilPd ! 
A. feast I vow'd to Bacchns free, 
A white he-goat, when all but kill'd . 

By falling tree. 
So, when that holyday comes ronnd. 

It sees me still the rosin clear 
From this my wine-jar, first embrown'd 

In Tijllus' year. 
Come, crush one hundred cups for life 
Preserved, Maecenas ; keep till day 
The candles lit ; let noise and strife 

Be far away. 
Lay down that load of state-concern ; 

The Dacian hosts are all o'erthrown ; 
The Mede, that sought our overturn, 

Now seeks his own ; 
A servant now, our ancient foe. 

The Spaniard, wears at last our chain ; 
The Scythian half unbends his bow 
And quits the plain. 



78 ODES OF HORACE. 

Then fret not lest the state should ail ; 

A private man such thoughts may spare ;. 
Enjoy the present hour's regale, 
'And banish ;9are. 



* rx. 

Donee gratus eram»^ 

Horace, 
"\ 1 rHILE I had power to bless you, 

Nor any round that neck his arms did fling 
More privileged to caress you, 
Happier was Horace than the Persian king. 

Lydia, While you fbr none were pining 
Sorer, nor Lydia after Ohloe came, 

Lydia, her peers outshining. 
Might match her own with Hia's Boman fame. 

H. Now Ohloe is my treasure, 
Whose voice, whose touch, can mskke sweet music 
flow: 
For her l*d die with pleasure, 
Would Fate but spare the dear survivor so. 

L. I love my own fond lover. 
Young Calais, son of Thurian Omytus : 

For him Td die twice over, 
Would Fate but spare the sweet survivor thus. 

H What now, if Love returning 
Should pair us 'neath his brazen yoke once more, 

And, bright-hair'd Ohloe spuming, 
Horace to off-cast Lydia ope^s door P 



BOOK III. 79 

L, Thoagh he Is fairer, milder, 

Than starlight, yon lighter than bark of tree, 

Than stormy Hadria wilder, 
With yoa to live, to die, were bliss for me. 



X. 

Extremum Taruiin, 

A H Lyce ! though yonr drink were Tanais, 
^ Yoar husband some rude savage, you would 
weep 
To leave me shivering, on a night like this, 
Where storms their watdies keep. 
Hark ! how your door is creaking ! how the grove 
In yourfair court-yard, while the wild winds blow. 
Wails in accord ! with what transparence Jove 

Is glazing the driven snow ! 
Cease that proud temper : Venus loves it not : 
The rope may break, the wheel may backward 
turn: 
Begetting you, no Tuscan sire begot 

Penelope the stem. 
0, though no gift, no " prevalence of prayer," 

Nor lovers' paleness deep as violet. 
Nor husband, smit with a Pierian fair. 

Move you, have pity yet I 
harder e*en than toughest heart of oak, 

Deafer than uncharm*d snake to suppliant moan s ! 
This side, I warn you, will not always brook 
Bain- water and cold stones. 



80 ODES OF HORACE. 



Mereuri, nam te. 

^OMK, Mercury, by whose minstrel spell 
^^ Amphion raised the Theban stones, 
Gome, with thy seven sweet strings, my shell. 

Thy " diverse tones," 
Nor vocal once nor pleasant, now 

To rich man's board and temple dear : 
Put forth thy power, till Lyde bow 

Her stubborn ear. 
She, like a three-year colt unbroke, 

Is frisking o*er the spacious plain, 
Too shy to bear a lover's yoke, 

A husband's rein. 
The wood, the tiger, at thy call 

Have foUow'd : thou canst rivers stay : 
The monstrous guard of Pluto's hall 

To thee gave way, 
Ghrim Cerberus, round whose Grorgon head 

A hundred snakes are hissing death, 
Whose triple jaws black venom shed. 

And sickening breath. 
Ldon too and Tityos smooth'd 

Their rugged brows : the urn stood dry 
One hour, while Banaus' maids were sooth'd 
With minstrelsy. 



BOOK II L 81 

Let Lyde hear those maidens' gaUt, 

Their famous doom, the ceaseless dram 
Of outpour'd water, ever spilt, 

And all the pain 
Eeserved for sinners, e'en when dead : 

Those impious hands, (could crime do more ?) 
Those impious hands had hearts to shed 

Their bridegrooms' gore ! 
One only, true to Hymen's flame. 

Was traitress to her sire forsworn : 
That splendid falsehood lights her name 

Through times unborn. 
" Wake !" to her youthful spouse she cried, 
" Wake ! or you yet may sleep too well : 
My — ^firom the father of your bride. 

Her sisters fell : 
They, as she-lions bullocks rend, 

Tear each her victim : I, less hard 
Than these, will slay you not, poor friend. 

Nor hold in ward : 
Me let my sire in fetters lay 

For merpy to my husband shown : 
Me let him ship far hence away. 

To climes unknown. 
Gro ; speed your flight o'er land and wave, 
While Night and Venus shield you ; go 
Be blest : and on my tomb engrave 
This tale of woe." 



^ ODES OF HORACE. 



XIL 

Miserarum est, 

T TOW unhappy are the middens who with 

^ Cupid may not play, 

Who may never touch the wine-cup, but must 

tremble all the day 
At an uncle, and the scourging of his tongue ! 
Neobule, there's a robber takes your needle and 

your thread, 
Lets the lessons of Minerva run no longer in your 

head; 
It is Hebrus, the athletic and the young I 
0, to see him when anointed he is plunging in the 

flood! 
What a seat he has on horseback! was Bellero- 

phon's as good? 
As a boxer, as a runner, past compare I 
When the deer are flying blindly all the open 

country o'er, 
He can aim and he can hit them; he can steal 

upon the boar. 
As it couches in the thicket unaware. 



BOOK II L 88 



XUI. 

fons Bandusice, 

T) ANDTJSIA'S fotuit, in oleamess crystalline, 
worthy of the wine, the flowers we vow ! 
To-morrow shall be thine 
A kid, whose crescent brow 
Is sprouting all for love and victory. 

In vain : his warm red blood, so early stirr'd, 
Thy gelid stream shall dye, 
Child of the wanton herd. 
Thee the fierce Sirian star, to madness fired, 
Forbears to touch : sweet cool thy waters yield 
To ox with ploughing tired. 
And lazy sheep afield. 
Thou too one day shalt win proud eminence 
'Mid honour*d founts, while I the ilex sing 
Crowning the cavern, whence 
Thy babbling wavelets springs 

XIV. 

Herculis ritu, 

/^UR Hercules, they told us, Rome, 
^-^ . Had sought the laurel Death bestows : 
Now Glory brings him conqueror home 
From Spaniard foes. 



84 ODES OF HORACE. 

Proud of her spouse, the imperial fair 

Must thank the gods that shield from death ; 
His sister too : — let matrons wear 

The suppliant wreath 
For daughters and for sons restored : 
Ye youths and damsels newly wed, 
Let decent awe restrain each word 

Best left unsaid* 
This day, true holyday to me, 

Shall banish care : I will not fear 
Bude broils or bloody death to see. 

While OaBsar's here. 
Quick,, boy, the chaplets and the nard. 

And wine, that knew the Marsian war, 
If roving Spartacus have spared 

A single jaj*. 
A.nd bid Neaara come and trill, 

Her bright locks bound with careless art : 
If her rough porter cross your will. 

Why then depart. 
Soon palls the taste for noise and fray, 

When hair is white and leaves are sere : 
How had I fired in life's warm May, 
In Plancus* year ! 



BOOK IT I. 85 



XV. 

Uxor pauperis Ibyci. 

T 1 7TPE of Ibycus the poor, 
^ ^ Let aged scandals have at length their 
bound : 

Give yonr graceless doings o'er, 
Bipe as yon are for going underground. 

You the maidens' dance to lead, 
And cast your gloom upon those beaming stars ! 

Daughter Pholoe may succeed, 
But mother Ohloris what she touches mars. 

Young men's homes your daughter storms, 
Like Thyiad, madden'd by the cymbals' beat : 

Nothus' love her bosom warms : 
She gambols like a fawn with silver feet. 

Yours should be the wool that grows 
By fair Luceria, not the merry lute : 

Flowers beseem not wither'd brows, 
Nor wither'd lips with emptied wine-jars suit. 

XVL 

Inclusam Danaen, 

TC*XJLL well had Danae been secured, in truth, 

By oaken portals, and a brazen tower. 
And savage watch-dogs, from the roving youth 
That prowl at midnight's hour ; 



86 ODES OF HORACE. 

But Jove and Venus mock'd with gay disdain 
The jealous warder of that close stronghold : 
The way, they knew, must soon be smooth and 
plain 
When gods could change to gold. 
Gold, gold can pass the tyrant's sentinel, 

Can shiver rocks with more resistless blow 
Than is the thunder's. Argos' prophet fell, 

He and his house laid low. 
And all for gain. The man of Macedon 

Cleft gates of cities, rival kings o'erthrew 
By force of gifts : their cunning snares have won 

Bude captains and their crew. 
As riches grow, care follows : men repine 

And thirst for more. No lofty crest I raise : 
Wisdom that thought forbids, MsBcenas mine, 

The knightly order's praise. 
He that denies himself shall gain the more 

From bounteous Heaven. I strip me of my pride, 
Desert the rich man's standard, and pass o'er 

To bare Contentment's side. 
More proud as lord of what the great despise 

Than if the wheat thresh'd on Apulia's floor 
I hoarded all in my huge granaries, 

'Mid vast possessions poor. 
A clear fresh stream, a little field o'ergrown 

With shady trees, a crop that ne'er deceives. 
Pass, though men know it not, their wealth, that 
own 
All Afrio's golden sheaves. 



BOOK III. 87 

Though no Galabrian bees their honey yield 

For me, nor mellowing sleeps the god of wine 
In Formian jar, nor in Ganl*s pasture-field 

The wool grows long and fine, 
Yet Poverty ne'er comes to break my peace ; 

If more I craved, you would not more refuse. 
Desiring less, I better shall increase 

My tiny revenues. 
Than if to Alyattes' wide domains 

I join'd the realms of Mygdon. Great desires 
Sort with great wants. *Tis best, when prayer 
obtains 
No more than life requires. 



XVIL 

JSli vetusto, 

/C LITJS, of Lamus* ancient name 
'^^^ (For since from that high parentage 
The prehistoric Lamias came 

And all who fill the storied page, 
No doubt you trace your line from him, 

Who stretch'd his sway o'er FormisB, 
And Idris, whose still waters swim 

Where green Marica skirts the sea, 
Lord of broad realms), an eastern gale 

Will blow to-morrow, and bestrew 



88 ODES OF HORACE. 

The shore with weeds, with leaves the vale, 
If rain's old prophet tell me tme, 

The raven. Gather, while 'tis fine, 
Tour wood ; to-morrow shall be gay 

With smoking pig and streaming wine, 
And lord and slave keep holyday. 



xym. 

Faune, Nympharum, 

r\ WONT the flying Nymphs to woo, 
^-^ Grood Fatinns, through my sunny farm 
Pass gently, gently pass, nor do 

My younglings harm. 
Each year, thou know'st, a kid must die 

For thee ; nor lacks the wine's full stream 
To Venus' mate, the bowl ; and high 

The altars steam. 
Sure as December's nones appear. 

All o'er the grass the cattle play ; 
The village, with the lazy steer, 

Keeps holyday. 
Wolves rove among the fearless sheep ; 

The woods for thee their foliage strow ; 
The delver loves on earth to leap, 

His ancient foe. 



BOOK III. 89 



XIX. 

Qimntum distat, 

Al rTTAT the time from Inachns 
^ ^ To Oodrus, who in patriot battle fell, 

Who were sprung from ^acus, 
And how men fought at Ilion, — ^this you tell. 

What the wines of Chios cost, 
Who with due heat our water can allay, 

What the hour, and who the host 
To give us house-room, — this you will not say. 

Ho, there ! wine to moonrise, wine 
To midnight, wine to our new augur too ! 

Nine to three or three to nine, 
As each man pleases, makes proportion true. 

Who the uneven Muses loves, 
Will fire his dizzy brain with three times three ; 

Three once told the Grace approves ; 
She with her two bright sisters, gay and free. 

Shrinks, as maiden should, from strife : 
But I'm for madness. What has dull*d the fire 

Of the Berecyntian fife P 
Why hangs the flute in silence with the lyre ? 

Out on niggard-handed boys ! 
RaLn showers of roses ; let old Lycus hear. 

Envious churl, our senseless noise, 
And she, our neighbour, his ill-sorted fere. 



90 ODES OF HORACE, 

You with yonr bright clustering hair, 
Your beauty, Telephus, like evening's sky, 

Bhoda loves, as young, as fair ; 
I for my Glycera slowly, slowly die. 



XXI. 

nate mecum, 

/^ BOEN in Manlius' year with me, 
^^ Whate'er you bring us, plaint or jest, 
Or passion and wild revelry, 

Or, like a gentle wine-jar, rest ; 
Howe'er men call your Massic juice, 

Its broaching claims a festal day ; 
Gome then ; Gorvinus bids produce 

A mellower wine, and I obey. 
Though steep'd in all Socratic lore 

He will not slight you ; do not fear. 
They say old Gato o'er and o'er 

With wine his honest heart would cheer. 
Tough wits to your mild torture yield 

Their treasures ; you unlock the soul 
Of wisdom' and its stores conceal'd, 

Arm'd with Lyseus' kind control. 
•Tis yours the drooping heart to heal ; 

Your strength uplifts the poor man's horn ; 
Inspired by you, the soldier's steel. 

The monarch's crown, he laughs to scorn. 



BOOK III. 91 



Liber and Venus, wills she so, 
And sister Graces, ne'er unknit, 

And living lamps shall see you flow 
Till stars before the sunrise flit. 



XXII. 

Montium cusios. 

/^UARDIAN of hill and woodland, Maid, 
^■^ Who to young wives in childbirth's hour 
Thrice caird, vouchsafest sovereign aid, 

three-form'd power ! 
This pine that shades my cot be thine ; 

Here will I slay, as years come round, 
A youngling boar, whose tusks design 

The side-long wound. 



XXIII. 

CcbIo supinas, 

T F, Phidyle, your hands you lift 

To heaven, as each new moon is bom. 
Soothing your harea with the gift 

Of slaughtered swine, and spice^ and corn, 
Ne'er shaU Scirocco's bane assail 

Your vines, nor mildew blast your wheat, 



92 ODES OF HORACE, 

Ne'er shall your tender younglings fail 

In autumn, when the fruits are sweet. 
The destined victim 'mid the snows 

Of Algidus in oakwoods fed. 
Or where the Alban herbage grows, 

Shall dye the pontiff's axes red ; 
No need of butoher'd sheep for you 

To make your homely prayers prevail ; 
Give but your little gods their due, 

The rosemary twined with myrtle frail. 
The sprinkled salt, the votive meal. 

As soon their favour will regain, 
Let but the hand be pure and leal, 

As all the pomp of heifers slain. 



XXIV. 

Intactis opulentior. 

nPHOUGH your buried wealth surpass 
The unsunn'd gold of Ind or Araby, 

Though with many a ponderous mass 
You crowd the Tuscan and Apuliaa sea, 

Let Necessity but drive 
Her wedge of adamant into that proud head, 

Vainly battling will you strive 
To 'scape Death's noose, or rid your soul of dreiid. 

Better life the Scyi}hians lead. 
Trailing on waggon wheels their wandering home, 



BOOK III. 93 

Or the hardy Getan breed, 
As o'er their vast unmeasnred steppes they roam ; 

Free the crops that bless their soil; 
Their tillage wearies after one year's space ; 

Each in turn fulfils his toil ; 
His period o'er, another takes his place. 

There the step-dame keeps her hand 
Prom guilty plots, from blood of orphans clean ; 

There no downed wives command 
Their feeble lords, or on adulterers lean. 

Theirs are dowries not of gold. 
Their parents' worth, their own pure chastity, 

True to one, to others cold ; 
They dare not sin, or, if they dare, they die. 

O, whoe'er has heart and head 
To stay our plague of blood, our civic brawls. 

Would he that his name be read 
** Father of Bome " on lofty pedestals. 

Let him chain this lawless will. 
And be our children's hero ! cursed spite I 

Living worth we envy still. 
Then seek it with strain'd eyes, when snatch'd 
from sight. 

What can sad laments avail 
ITnless sharp justice kill the tdiint of sin P 

What can laws, that needs must fail 
Shorn of the aid of manners forin'd within. 

If the merchant turns not back 
From the fierce heats that round the tropic glow, 

Turns not from the regions black 



94 ODES OF HORACE, 

With northern winds, and hard with frozen snow ; 

Sailors override the wave, 
While guilty poverty, more fear'd than vice. 

Bids us crime and suffering brave. 
And shuns the ascent of virtue's precipice P 

Let the Gapitolian fane, 
The favonr'd goal of yon vociferous crowd. 

Aye, or let the nearest main 
Receive our gold, our jewels rich and proud: 

Slay we thus the cause of crime, 
If yet we would repent and choose the good : 

Ours the task to take in time 
This baleful lust, and crush it in the bud. 

Ours to mould our weakling sons 
To nobler sentiment and manlier deed : 

Now the noble's first-bom shuns 
The perilous ohase, nor learns to sit his steed : 

Set him to the unlawful dice. 
Or Grecian hoop, how skilfully he plays ! 

While his sire, mature in vice, 
A friend, a partner, or a guest betrays. 

Hurrying, for an heir so base. 
To gather riches. Money, root of ill. 

Doubt it not, still grows apace : 
Yet the scant heap lias somewhat lacking still. 



BOOK III. 95 



XXV. 
Q^o me, Bacehe, 



^IITHITHER, Bacchus, tear'st thou me, 
^^ Fill'd with thy strength? What dens, what 
forests these. 

Thus in wildering race I see ? 
\Yhat cave shall hearken to my melodies. 

Tuned to tell of Oassar's praise 
And throne him high the heavenly ranks among F 

Sweet and strange shall be my lays, 
A tale till now by poet voice unsuag. 

As the Evian on the height. 
Boused from her sleep, looks wonderingly abrpad, 

Looks on Thrace with snow-drifts white, 
And Ehodope by barbarous footstep trod, 

So my truant eyes admire 
The banks, the desolate forests. O great King 

Who the Kaiads dost inspire, 
And Bacchants, strong from earth huge trees to 
wring! 

Not a lowly strain is mine. 
No mere man's utterance. 0, 'tis venture sweet 

Thee to follow, Gkni of wine. 
Making the vine-branch round thy temples meet ! 



96 ODES OF HORACE. 



XXVI. 

Vixi piAeUis, 

"POE ladies' love I late was fit, 

And good success my warfare blest, 
But now my arms, my lyre I quit. 

And hong them up to rust or rest. 
Here, where arising from the sea 

Stands Venus, lay the load at last. 
Links, crowbars, and artillery. 

Threatening all doors that dared be fast. 
O Goddess ! Cyprus owns thy sway, 

And Memphis, far from Thradan snow : 
Baise high thy lash, and deal me, pray, 

That haughty Chloe just one blow ! 



XXVII. 

Imptos parrcB. 

"VXTSEiN gnUt goes forth, let lapwings shrill, 
^ ^ And dogs and foxes great with young, 
And wolves from far Lanuvian hill, 

Give clamorous tongue : 
Across the roadway dart the snake, 

Frightening, like arrow loosed from string. 



BOOK III. 97 

The horses. I, for friendship's sake, 

Watching each wing, 
Ere to his haunt, the stagnant marsh, 

The harbinger of tempest flies. 
Will call the raven, croaking harsh. 

From eastern skies. 
Farewell ! — and wheresoe'er you go, 

My Galatea, think of me : 
Let lefthand pie and roving crow 

Still leave you free. 
But mark with what a front of fear 
Orion lowers. Ah ! well I know 
How Hadria glooms, how falsely clear 

The west-winds blow. 
Let foemen's wives and children feel 

The gathering south- wind's angry roar, 
The black wave's crash, the thunder-peal. 

The quivering shore. 
So to the bull Europa gave 

Her beauteous form, and when she saw 
The monstrous deep, the yawning grave, 

Grew pale with awe. 
That mom of meadow-flowers she thought, 
Weaving a crown the nymphs to please ; 
That gloomy night she look'd on nought 

But stars and seas. 
Then, as in hundred-citied Crete 

She landed, — " my sire ! " she said, 
" childly duty ! passion's heat 
Has struck thee dead. 

H 



98 ODES OF HORACE. 

Whence came I P death, for maiden's shame. 

Were little. Do I wake to weep 
My sin P or am I pore of blame, 

And is it sleep 
From dreamland brings a form to trick 
My senses P Which was best P to go 
Over the long, long waves, or pick 

The flowers in blow P 
0, were that monster made my prize, 

How would I strive to wound that brow. 
How tear those horns, my frantic eyes 

Adored but now ! 
Shameless I left my father's home ; 

Shameless I cheat the expectant grave ; 
O heaven, that naked I might roam 

In lions' cave I 
Now, ere decay my bloom devour 

• Or thin the richness of my blood. 
Fain would I fall in youth's first flower, 

The tigers' food. 
Hark ! 'tis my father — * Worthless one ! 

What, yet alive P the oak is nigh. 
'Twas well you kept your maiden zone. 

The noose to tie. 
Or if your choice be that rude pike, 

New barb'd with death, leap down and ask 
The wind to bear you. Would you like 

The bondmaid's task. 
You, child of kings, a master's toy, 
A mistress' slave P '" Beside her, lo ! 



BOOK III. 89 

Stood YeuiiB smiling, and her boj 

With luetmag hem. 
Then, when her laoghtei- ceased, " Have done 
With ftune and fret," she cried, " my fait ; 
That odiooa boll wUI give 70D soon 

Hie horns to tear. 
Yon know not yaa are Jove's own dame : 

Away with sobbing ; be resign'd 
To greatness ; yoa shall give joor niune 

To half mankind." 



Festo quid poiiua. 

"Vr EPTUNE'S feast-day ! what should man 
■'■^ Think first of doing ? Lyde mine, be bold, 

Broach the treasured Geecnban, 
And batter Wisdom in her own stronghold 

Now the noon hsa pass'd the full, 
Tet snre yon deem swift Time has made a halt, 

Tardy as yon are to poll 
Old Bibnlas' wine-jar &om its sleepy vault. 

I wiU take my turn and sing 
Neptune and Kerens' trtun with locks of green ; 

Ton shall warble to the string 
Latona and her Cynthia's arrowy sheen. 



100 ODES OF HORACE. 

Hers our latest song, who sways 
Cnidos and Cyclads, and to Paphos goes 

With her swans, on holydays ; 
Mght too shall claim the homage music owes^ 



XXIX. 

Tyrrhena regum. 

TT EIR of Tyrrhenian kings, for you 

A mellow cask, unbroach*d as yet, 
MsBcenas mine, and roses new, 

And fresh-drawn oil your locks to wet. 
Are waiting here. Delay not still, 

Nor gaze on Tibur, never dried. 
And sloping ^sule, and the hill 

Of Telegon the parricide. 
O leave that pomp that can but tire, 

Those piles^ amphg the clouds at home ; 
Cease for a moment to admire * 

The smoke, the wealth, the noise of Eome ! 
In change e'en luxury finds a zest : 

The poor man's supper, neat, but spare, 
With no gay couch to. seat the guest, 

Has smoothed the rugged brow of care. 
Now glows the Ethiop maiden's sire ; 

Now Procyon r&ges all ablaze ; 
The Lion maddens in his ire, 

As suns bring back the sultry days : 



■-^ 



BOOK III. 101 

The shepherd with his weary sheep 

Seeks out the stiteamlet and the'fieeiii, 
Silvanns' lair : the still banks sleep 

UntronMed by the wandering breeze. 
You ponder on imperial schemes, 

And o'er the city's danger brood : 
Bactrian and Serian htiunt your dreams, 

And Tanais, toss'd by inward feud. 
The issue of the time to be 

Heaven wisely hides in blackest night, 
And laughs, should man's anxiety 

Transgress the bounds of man's short sight. 
Control the present : all beside 

Flows like a river seaward borne, 
Now rolling on its placid tide. 

Now whirling massy trunks uptom, 
And wavewom crags, and farms, and stock, 

d chaos blent, while hill and wood 
Eeverberate to the enormous shock, 

When savage rains the tranquil flood 
Have stirr'd to madness. Happy he, 

Self-centred, who each night can say, 
" My life is lived : the mom may see 

A clouded or a sunny day : 
,That rests with Jove : but what is gone, 

He will not, cannot turn to nought ; 
Nor cancel, as a thing undone, 

What once the flying hour has brought." 
Fortune, who loves her cruel game. 

Still bent upon some heartless whim. 



102 ODES OF HORACE. 

Shifts her caresses, fickle dame, 

Now kind to me, and now to him : 
She stays ; *tis well : bnt let her shake 

Those wings, her presents I resign, 
Cloak me in native worth, and take 

Chaste Poverty undowered for mine. 
Though storms around my vessel rave, 

I will not fall to craven prayers, 
Nor bargain by my vows to save 

My Cyprian and Sidonian wares, 
Else added to the insatiate main. 

Then through the wild ^gean roar 
The breezes and the Brethren Twain 

Shall waft my little boat ashore. 



XXX. 

Exegi monummtum. { 

A ND now *tis done : more durable than brass * 
My monument shall be, and raise its head 
O'er royal pyramids : it shall not dread 
Corroding rain or angry Boreas, 
Nor the long lapse of immemorial time. 
I shall not wholly die : large residue 
Shall 'scape the queen of funerals. Ever new 
My after fame shall grow, while pontifi*s climb 
With silent maids the Capitolian height. 



SOOS III. 103 

" Born, men will eay, " where Anfidos is loud, 
Wkere Dannns, acaat of eticama, beneath him 

The nutic tribes, from dimneea he wai'd briglit, 
First of his nH» to wed the ^olian lay 
To notes of Italy." Pnt glory on, 
My own Melpomene, by genias won. 
And crown me of thy grace with Delphic bay. 




BOOK IV. 



I. 



IntermissOy Venus. 




ET again thou wak'st the flame 
That long had slumber'd ! Spare me, 
Venus, spare ! 
Trust me, I am not the same 
As in the reign of Cinara, kind and fair. 

Cease thy softening spells to prove 
On this old heart, by fifty years made hard, 

Cruel Mother of sweet Love ! 
Haste, where gay youth solicits thy regard. 

With thy purple cygnets fly 
To Paullus' door, a seasonable guest'; 

There within hold revelry, 
There light thy flame in that congenial breast. 

He, with birth and beauty graced. 
The trembling client's champion, ne'er tongue-tied, 

Master of each manly taste. 
Shall bear thy conquering banners far and wide. 



■ ■• 



BOOK IV, 105 

Let him smile in triumph gay, 
True heart, victorious over lavish hand, 

By the Alban lake that day 
'Neath citron roof all marble shalt thou stand : 

Incense there and fragrant spice 
With odorous fumes thy nostrils shall salute ; 

Blended notes thine ear entice, 
The lyre, the pipe, the Berecyntine flute : 

Graceful youths and maidens bright 
Shall twice a day thy tuneful praise resound, 

While their feet, so fair and white. 
In Salian measure three times beat the ground. 

I can relish love no more. 
Nor flattering hopes that tell me hearts are true, 

Nor the revePs loud uproar. 
Nor fresh-wreathed flowerets, bathed in vernal 
dew. 

Ah ! but why, my Ligurine, 
Steal trickling tear-drop3 down.my wasted cheek? 

Wherefore halts this tongue of mine. 
So eloquent once, so faltering now and weak ? 

Now I hold you in my chain, 
And clasp you close, all in a nightly dream ; 

Now, still dreaming, o'er the plain 
I chase you ; now, ah cruel ! down the stream. 



r06 ODES OF HORACE. 




n. 

Pindarum guisquis, 

T 1 rHO fain at Pindar's flight would aim, 
'" On waxen wings, lulus, he 

Soars heavenward, doom'd to give his name^ 
To some new sea. \ 

Pindar, like torrent from the steep 

Which, swollen with rain, its banks o'erflows. 
With mouth unfathomably deep. 

Foams, thunders, glows. 
All worthy of Apollo's bay, 

Whether in dithyrambio roll 
Pouring new words he burst away 

Beyond control, 
Or gods and god-born heroes tell. 

Whose arm with righteous death could tame 
Grim Centaurs, tame ChimsBras fell. 

Out-breathing flame, 
Or bid the boxer or the steed 

In deathless pride of victory liYe, 
And dower them with a nobler meed 

Than sculptors give. 
Or mourn the bridegroom early torn 

From his young bridp, and set on high 
{Strength, courage, virtue's golden morii. 
Too good to die. 



BOOK IV. 107 

Antonius ! yes, the winds blow free. 

When Dirce's swan ascends the skies, 
To waft him. I, like Matine bee, 

In act and gnise. 
That culls its sweets through toilsome hours, 

Am roaming Tibur*s bank6f>along, 
And fashioning with puny powers 

A laboured song. 
Your Muse shall sing in loftier strain 

How Caasar climbs the sacred height, 
The fierce Sygambrians in his train, 

With laurel dight, 
Than whom the Fates ne'er gave mankind 

A richer treasure or more dear. 
Nor shall, though earth again should find 

The golden year. 
Your Muse shall tell of public sports. 

And holyday, and votive feast. 
For Caasar's sake, and brawling courts 

Where strife has ceased. 
Then, if my voice can aught avail, 

Grateful for him our prayers have won, 
My song shall echo, " Hail, all hail, < 

Auspicious Sun ! " 
There as you move, " Ho ! Triumph, ho ! 
Great Triumph ! " once and yet again 
All Eome shall cry, and spices strow 

Before your train. 
Ten bulls, ten kine, your debt discharge : 
A calf new-wean*d from parent cow, 



108 ODES OF HORACE, 

Battening on pastares rich and large, 
Shall quit my vow. 

Like moon just dawning on the night 
The crescent honours of his head ; 

One dapple spot of snowy white, 
The rest all red. 



H 



III. 

Qmm tu, Melpomene, 
E whom thou, Melpomene, 



Hast welcomed with thy smile, in life 
arriving, 

Ne*er by boxer's skill shall be 
Eenown*d abroad, for Isthmian mastery striving; 

Him shall never fiery steed 
Draw in Aohsean car a conqueror seated ; 

Him shall never martial deed ^ 
Show, crown'd with bay, after proud kings 
defeated, 

Climbing Oapitolian steep : 
But the cool streams that make green Tibur 
flourish. 

And the tangled forest d^ep, 
On sofb Moh&n airs his fame shall nourish. 

Bome, of cities first and best. 
Deigns by her sons* according voice to hail me 

Fellow-bard of poets blest, 
And faint and fainter envy's growls assail me. 



BOOK IV. 109 

Goddess, whose Pierian art 
The lyre's sweet sounds can modulate and measure, 

Who to dumb fish canst impart 
The music of the swan, if such thy pleasure : 

O, 'tis all of thy dear grace 
That every finger points me out in going 

Lyrist of the Eoman race ; 
Breath, power to charm, if mine, are thy bestowing ! 



lY. 

Quahm ministrum, 

Tj* 'EN as the lightning's minister, 

^^ Whom Jove o'er all the feather'd breed 

Made sovereign, having proved him sure 

Erewhile on auburn Ganymede ; 
Stirr'd by warm youth and inborn power, 

He quits the nest with timorous wing. 
For winter's storms have ceased to lower, 

And^^ephyrs of returning spring 
Tempt him to launch on unknown skies ; 

Next on the fold he stoops downright ; 
Last on resisting serpents flies, 

Athirst for foray and for ^ght .* 
As tender kidHng on the grass 

Espies, uplooking from her food, 
A lion's whelp, and knows, alas ! 

Those new-set teeth shall drink her blood : 



110 ODES OF HORACE. 

So look'd the BaBtian mountaineers 

On Drusus : — ^whence in every field 
They leam*d through immemorial years 

The Amazonian axe to wield, 
I ask not now : not all of truth 

We seekers find: enough to know 
The wisdom of the princely youth 

Has taught our erst victorious foe 
What prowess dwells in boyish hearts 

Beared in the shrine of a pure home, 
What strength Augustus' love imparts 

To Nero's seed, the hope of Rome. 
Good sons and brave good sires approve : 

Strong bullocks, fiery colts, attest 
Their fathers* worth, nor weakling dove 

Is hatch'd in savage eagle's nest. 
But care draws forth the power within, 

And cultured minds are strong for good : 
Let manners fail, the plague of sin 

Taints e'en the course of gentle blood. 
How great thy debt to Nero's race, 

O Bome, let red Jf etaurus say, 
Slain Hasdrubal, and victory's grace 

First granted on that glorious day 
Which chased the clouds, and show'd the sun, 

When Hannibal o'er Italy 
Ban, as swift flames o'er pine-woods run. 

Or Eurus o'er Sicilia's sea. 
Henceforth, by fortune aiding toil, 

Bome's prowess grew: her fanes, laid waste 



BOOK IV. Ill 

By Punic sacrilege and spoil, 

Beheld at length their gods replaced. 
Then the false Libyan own*d his doom : — 

" Weak deer, the wolves' predestined prey, 
Blindly we rush on foes, from whom 

'Twere triumph won to steal away. 
That race which, strong from Ilion's fires, 

Its gods, on Tuscan waters tost. 
Its sons, its venerable sires, 

Bore to Ausonia's citied coast ; 
That race, like oak by axes shorn 

On Algidus with dark leaves rife, 
Laughs carnage, havoc, all to* scorn. 

And draws new spirit from the knife. 
Not the lopp'd Hydra task'd so sore 

Alcides, chafing at the foil : 
No pest so fell was born of yore 

From Colchian or. from Theban soil. 
Plunged in the deep, it mounts to sight 

More splendid : grappled, it will quell 

« 

Unbroken powers, and fight a fight 

Whose story widow'd wives shall tell. 
No heralds shall my deeds proclaim 

To Carthage now : lost, lost is all : 
A nation's hope, a nation's name. 

They died with dying Hasdrubal." 
What will not Claudian hands achieve ? ,^ 

Jove's favour is their guiding star. 
And watchful potencies unweave 

For them the tangled paths of war. 



112 ODES OF HORACE. 



V. 

Divis orto bonis, 

T) EST guardian of Eome*s people, dearest boon 
Of a kind Heaven, thou lingerest all too long : 
Thou bad'st thy senate look to meet thee soon : 

Do not thy promise wrong. 
Eestore, dear chief, the light thou tak'st away : 
Ah ! when, like spring, that gracious mien of 
thine 
Dawns on thy Eome, more gently glides the day, 

And suns serener shine. 
See her whose darling child a long year past 

Has dwelt beyond the wild Carpathian foam ; 
That long year o'er, the envious southern blast 

Still bars him from his home : 
Weeping and praying to the shore she clings, 

Nor ever thence her straining eyesight turns : 
So, smit by loyal passion's restless stings, 

Bome for her CsBsar yearns. 
In safety range the cattle o'er the mead : 

Sweet Peace, soft Plenty, swell the golden grain: 
O'er unvex'd seas the sailors blithely speed : 

Fair Honour shrinks from stain : 
No guilty lusts the shrine of home defile : 

Cleansed is the hand without, the heart within : 
The father's features in his children smile : 
Swift vengeaiice follows sin. 



BOOK IV. 113 

Who feaiTS the Parthian or the Scythian horde, 

Or the rank growth that German forests yield, 
While Gsesar lives ? who trembles at the sword 

The fierce Iberians wield? 
In his own hills each labours down the day, 

Teaching the vine to clasp the widow'd tree : 
Thein to his caps again, where, feasting gay, 

He hails his god in thee. 
A household power, adored with prayers and wine. 
Thou reign'st auspicious o'er his hour of ease : 
Thus grateful Greece her Castor made divine. 

And her great Hercules. 
Ah ! be it thine long holydays to give 

To thy Hesperia ! thus, dear chief, we pray 
At sober sunrise ; thus at mellow eve, 
When ocean hides the day. 



VI. 

Dive, quern proles. 

'T^HOTJ who didst make thy vengeful might 

To Niobe and Tityos known. 
And Peleus' son, when Troy's tall height 

Was nigh his own. 
Victorious else, for thee no peer. 

Though, strong in his sea-parent's power. 
He shook with that tremendous spear 
The Dardan tower. 



114 ODES OF HORACE. 

He, like a pine by axes sped, 

Or cypress sway*d by angiy gust, 
Fell mining, and laid his head 

In Trojan dnst. 
Not his to lie in covert pent 

Of the false steed, and sudden fall 
On Priam's ill-starr'd merriment 

In bower and hall : 
His ruthless arm in broad bare day 

The infant from the breast had torn, 
Nay, given to flame, ah, well a way I 

The babe unborn : 
But, won by Venus* voice and thine, 

Eelenting Jove ^neas will'd 
With other omens more benign 

New walls to build. 
Sweet tuner of the Grecian lyre. 

Whose locks are laved in Xanthus' dews. 
Blooming Agyieus ! help, inspire 

My Daunian Muse ! 
'Tis Phoebus, Phoebus gifts my tongue 

With minstrel art and minstrel fires : 
Gome, noble youths and maidens sprung 

From noble sires. 
Blest in your Dian's guardian smile. 

Whose shafts the flying silvans stay, 
Come, foot the Lesbian measurei, while 

The lyre I play : 
Sing of Latona's glorious boy. 

Sing of night's queen with orescent horn. 



BOOK IV. 116 

Who wings the fleeting months with joy, 

And swells the com. 
And happy brides shall say, " 'Twas mine, 

When years the cyclio season bronght, 
To chant the festal hymn divine 

By HoBACE taught." 



VII. 
Diffugere nives. 



/ 



nP±U!i snow is fled : the trees their leaves put on, 
-^ The fields their green.: 

Sarth owns the change, and rivers lessening run 

Their banks between, 
leaked the N^ymphs and Graces in the meads 

The dance essay : 
** No 'scaping death " proclaims the year, that 
speeds 
This sweet spring day. 
Frosts yield to zephyrs; Smnmer drives out 
Spring, 
To vanish, when 
Bich Autumn sheds his fruits ; round wheels the 
ring,— 
Winter again ! 
Yet the swift moons repair Heaven's detriment : 

We, soon as thrust 
Where good ^neas, Tullus, Ancus went, 
What are we P dust. 



.^ 



116 ODES OF HORACE. 

Can Hope assure yoa one more day to liye 

From powers above P 
Yon resone from your heir whate'er yon give 

The self you love. 
When life is o*er, and Minos has rehearsed 

The grand last doom, 
Not birth, nor eloquence, nor worth, shall burst 

Torquatus' tomb. 
Not Dian's self can chaste Hippolytus 

To life recall, 
Nor Theseus free his loved Pirithous 

From Lethe's thrall. 



VIII. 

Donarem pateras. 

A H Oensorinus ! to my comrades true 
"^^ Rich cups, rare bronzes, gladly would I send : 
Choice tripods firom Olympia on each friend 
Would I confer, choicer on none than you, 
Had but my fate such gems of art bestow'd 
As cunning Scopas or Farrhasius wrought, 
This with the brush, that with the chisel taught 
To image now a mortal, now a god. 
But these are not my riches : your desire 

Such luzory craves not, and your means disdain : 
A poet's sfcrain you love ; a poet's strain 
Accept, and learn the value of the lyre. 



BOOK IV. 117 

Kot public gravings on a marble base, 

Whence comes a second life to men of might 
E'en in the tomb : not HannibaPs swift flight, 
Kor those fierce threats flung back into his face, 
Not impious Carthage in its last red blaze, 
In clearer light sets forth his spotless fame. 
Who from crush'd Afric took away — a name. 
Than rude Calabria's tributary lays. 
Let silence hide the good your hand has wrought. 
Farewell, reward ! Had blank oblivion's power 
Bimm'd the bright deeds of Eomulus, at this 
hour, 
Despite his sire and mother, he were nought. 
Thus j^acus has 'scaped the Stygian wave, 
By grace of poets and their silver tongue, 
Henceforth to live the happy isles among. 
No, trust the Muse : she opes the good man's grave. 
And lifts him to the gods. So Hercules, 
His labours o'er, sits at the board of Jove : 
So Tyndareus' ofispring shine as stars above, 
Saving lorn vessels from the yawning seas : 
So Bacchus, with the vine-wreath round his hair, 
Gives prosperous issue to his votary's prayer. 



118 ODES OF HO RACK 



IX. 

Ne forte credas, 

' I ^HINK not those strains can e'er expire, 
•*■ Which, cradled *mid the echoing roar 
Of Anfidas, to Latium's lyre 

I sing with arts unknown before. 
Though Homer fill the foremost throne, 

Yet gr&ve Stesichoms still can please, 
And fierce AIcsbus holds his own 

With Pindar and Simonides. 
The songs of Teos are not mate, 

And Sappho's love is breathing still : 
She told her secret to the lute. 

And yet its chords with passion thrilL 
Not Sparta's qneen alone was fired 

By broider'd robe and braided tress. 
And all the splendours that attired 

Her lover's guilty loveliness : 
Not only Teucer to the field 

His arrows brought, nor ILion 
Beneath a single conqueror reel'd : 

Not Crete's majestic lord alone. 
Or Sthenelus, eam'd the Muses' crown : 

Not Hector first for child and wife, 
Or brave Deiphobus, laid down 

The burden of a manly life. 



BOOK IV. 119 

Before Atrides men were brave : 

But ah ! oblivion, dark and long, 
Has lock'd them in a tearless grave, 

For lack of consecrating song. 
'Twixt worth and baseness, lapp'd in death, 

What difference ? You shall ne'er be dumb. 
While strains of mine have voice and breath : 

The dull neglect of days to come 
Those hard- won honours shall not blight : 

No, LoUius, no : a soul is yours, 
Clear-sighted, keen, alike upright 

When fortune smiles, and when she lowers : 
To greed and rapine still severe, 

Spuming the gain men find so swee« : 
A consul, not of one brief year. 

But oft as on the judgment-seat 
You bend the expedient to the right. 

Turn haughty eyes from bribes away. 
Or bear your banners through the fight. 

Scattering the foeman's firm array. 
The lord of boundless revenues. 

Salute not him as happy : no, 
Call him the happy, who can use 

The bounty that the gods bestow, 
Can bear the load of poverty. 

And tremble not at death, but sin : 
No recreant he when called to die 

In cause of country or of kin. 



120 ODES OF HORACE. 



XL 

Est mihinonum^ 

T T EEE is a cask of Alban, more 

Than nine years old : here grows for you 
Green parsley, Phyllis, and good store 

Of ivy too 
(Wreathed ivy suits your hair, you know): 

The plate shines bright : the altar, strew'd 
With vervain, hungers for the flow 

Of lambkin's blood. 
There's stir among the serving folk ; 
They bustle, bustle, boy and girl ; 
The flickering flames send up the smoke 

In many a curl. 
But why, you ask, this special cheer ? 

We celebrate the feast of Ides, 
Which April's month, to Venus dear. 

In twain divides. 
O, 'tis a day for reverence, 

E'en my own birthday scarce so dear, 
For my Maecenas counts from thence 

Each added year. 
*Tis Telephus that you'd bewitch : 

But he is of a high degree ; 
Bound to a lady fair and rich, 
He is not free. 



BOOK IV. 121 

O think of Phaethon half bum'd, 

And moderate your passion's greed : 
Think how Bellerophon was spurn 'd 

By his wing'd steed. 
So learn to look for partners meet, 

Shun lofty things, nor raise your aims 
Above your fortune. Come then, sweet. 

My last of flames 
(For never shall another fair 

Enslave me), learn a tune, to sing 
With that dear voice : to music care 
Shall yield its sting. 



XII. 

Jam veris comites. 

nPHE gales of Thrace, that hush the unquiet sea, 
Spring's comrades, on the bellying canvas 
blow : 
Glogg'd earth and brawling streams alike are free 

From winter's weight of snow. 
Wailing her Itys in that sad, sad strain, 

Builds the poor bird, reproach to after time 
Of Oecrops' house, for bloody vengeance ta'eu 

On foul barbaric crime. 
The keepers of fat lambkins chant their loves 
To silvan reeds, all in the grassy lea, 



122 ODES OF HORACE. 

And pleasure Him who tends the flocks and groves 

Of dark-leaved Arcady. 
It is a thirsty season, Yirgil mine : 

But would you taste the grape's Galenian juioe. 
Client of noble youths, to earn your wine 

Some nard you must produce. 
A tiny box of nard shall bring to light 

The cask that in Sulpician cellar lies : 
0, it can give new hopes, so fresh and bright, 

And gladden gloomy eyes. 
You take the bait P then come without delay 

And bring your ware : be sure, *tis not my plan 
To let you drain my liquor and not pay. 
As might some wealthy man. 
Gome, quit those covetous thoughts, those knitted 
brows. 
Think on the last black embers, while you may, 
And be for once unwise. When time allows, 
*Tis sweet the fool to play. 



XIII. 

. Audivere, Lyee. 

/ 

' I ^HE god^liave^ard, the gods have heard my 

prayer ; 

Yes, liyce ! you are growing old, and still 

You struggle to look fair; 

You drink, and dance, and trill 



BOOK IV. 123 

Your songs to yoathfnl Love, in accents weak 
With wine, and age, and passion. Yoathfnl 
Love ! 
He dwells in Chia*s cheek, 

And hears her harp-strings move. 
Bude boy, he flies like lightning o'er the heath 
Past withered trees like yon ; yon're wrinkled 
now; 
The white has left yonr teeth 
And settled on yonr brow. 
Yonp Coan silks, yonr jewels bright as stars. 
Ah no ! they bring not back the days of old. 
In pnblic calendars 

By flying Time enroll'd. 
Where now that beanty ? where those movements? 
where 
That colonr? what of her, of her is left. 
Who, breathing Love's own air. 
Me of myself bereft. 
Who reign'd in Ginara's stead, a fair, fair face. 
Queen of sweet arts ? but Fate to Ginara gave 
A life of little space; 

And now she cheats the grave 
Of Lyce, spared to raven's length of days. 

That youth may see, with laughter and disgast» 
A flre-brand, once ablaze, 

Now smouldering in grey dust. 



124 ODES OF HORACE. 



XIV. 

Qu/JB cura patrum. 

\\J"BJlT honours can a grateful Eome, 

* ^ A grateful senate, GsBsar, give 
To make thy worth through days to come 

Emblazon'd on our records live, 
Mightiest of chieftains whomsoe'er 

The sun beholds from heaven on high P 
They know thee now, thy strength in war, 

Those unsubdued VindelicL 
Thine was the sword that Dmsus drewy 

When on the Breunian hordes he fell, 
And storm'd the fierce Genaunian crew 

E*en in their Alpine citadel, 
And paid them back their debt twice told ; 

'Twas then the elder Nero came 
To conflict, and in ruin roird 

Stout EaBtian kernes of giant frame. 
0, 'twas a gallant sight to see 

The shocks that beat upon the brave 

Who chose to perish and be free ! 

As south winds scourge the rebel wave 
» 

When through rent clouds the Pleiads weep. 
So keen his force to smite, and smite 

The foe, or make his charger leap 
Through the red furnace of the fight. 



BOOK IV. 125 

Thus Batmia's ancient river fares, 

Proud Aufidus, with bull-like horn, 
When swoln with choler he prepares 

A deluge for the fields of com. 
So Claudius charged and overthrew 

The grim barbarian's mail-clad host, 
The foremost and the hindmost slew, 

And conquered all, and nothing lost. 
The force, the forethought, were thine own, 
Thine own the gods. The selfsame day 
When, port and palace open thrown, 

Low at thy footstool Egypt lay. 
That selfsame day, three lustres gone. 

Another victory to thine hand 
Was given ; another field was won 

By grace of CsBsar's high command. 
Thee Spanish tribes, unused to yield, 

Mede, Indian, Scyth that knows no home, 
Acknowledge, sword at once and shield 

Of Italy and queenly Eome. 
Ister to thee, and Tanais fleet. 

And Nile that will not tell his birth, 
To thee the monstrous seas that beat 

On Britain's coast, the end of earth. 
To thee the proud Iberians bow. 

And Gauls, that scorn from death to fice ; 
The fierce Sygambrian bends his brow. 
And drops his arms to worship thee. 



126 ODES OF HORACE. 



XV. 

Phoebus volentem, 

r\ F battles fought I fain had told, 

And conquer'd towns, when Phoebus smoje 
His harp-string : " Sooth, 'twere over-bold 

To tempt wide seas in that frail boat." 
Thy age, great CsBsar, has restored 

To squalid fields the plenteous grain. 
Given back to Rome's almighty Lord 

Our standards, torn from Parthian fane, 
Has closed Quirinian Janus' gate. 

Wild passion's erring walk controU'd, 
Heal'd the foul plague-spot of the state. 

And brought again the life of old, 
life, by whose healthful power increased 

The glorious name of Latium spread 
To where the sun illumes the east 

From where he seeks his western bed. 
While Gsasar rules, no civil strife 

Shall break our rest, nor violence rude, 
^or rage, that whets the slaughtering knife 

And plunges wretched towns in feud. 
The sons of Danube shall not scorn 

The Julian edicts ; no, nor they 
By Tanais' distant river bom, 

Nor Persia, Scythia, or Cathay. 



BOOK IV. 127 

And we on feast and working-tide, 

While Bacchus' bounties freely flow, 
Our wives and children at our side. 

First paying Heaven the prayers we owe. 
Shall sing of chiefs whose deeds are done, 

As wont our sires, to flute or shell, 
And Troy, Anchises, and the son 

Of Venus on our tongues shall dwell. 




'\ 



128 



CARMEN S^CULARE. 

PJiahe, silvarumque. 

T3H(EBUS and Bian, huntress fair, 

To-day and always magnified, 
Bright lights of heaven, accord our prayer 

This holy tide, 
On which the Sibyl's volume wills 

That youths and maidens without stain 
To gods, who love the seven dear hills. 

Should chant the strain ! 
Sun, that unchanged, yet ever new, 

Lead'st out the day and bring'st it home, 
May nought be present to thy view 

More great than Rome ! 
Blest nithyia ! be thou near 

In travail to each Roman dame ! 
Ludna, Glenitalis, hear, 

Whate'er thy name ! 
make our youth to live and grow ! 

The fathers' nuptial counsels speed. 
Those laws that shall on Rome bestow 

A plenteous seed ! 
So when a hundred years and ten 

Bring round the cycle, game and song 
Three days, three nights, shall charm again 

The festal throng. 



CABMEN 8JSGULABE. 129 

Ye too, ye Fates, whose righteous doom, 
Declared bat once, is sure as heaven, 
Link on new, blessings, yet to come, 

To blessings given ! 
Let Earth, with grain and cattle rife, 

Crown Ceres' brow with wreathen corn ; 
Soft winds, sweet waters, nurse to life 

The newly bom ! 
O lay thy shafts, Apollo, by ! 

Let suppliant youths obtain thine ear ! 
Thou Moon, fair " regent of the sky," 

Thy maidens hear ! 
If Rome is yours, if Troy's remains, 

Safe by your conduct, sought and found 
Anotjier city, other fanes 

On Tuscan ground. 
For whom^ 'mid fires and piles of slain, 

^neas made a broad highway. 
Destined, pure heart, with greater gain 

Their loss to pay, 
Grant to our sons unblemished ways ; 
Grant to our sires an age of peace ; 
Grant to our nation power and praise, 

And large increase ! 
See, at your shrine, with victims white. 

Prays Venus and Anchises' heir ! 
O prompt him still the foe to smite. 

The fallen to spare ! 
Now Media dreads our Alban steel, 
Our victories land and ocean o'er ; 

K 



130' OABMEN S^GULABE. 

Scythia and Ind in snppliance kneel, 

So proud before. 
Faith, Honour, ancient Modesty, 

And Peace, and Yirtue, spite of scorn, 
Gome back to earth ; and Plenty, see, 

"^ith teeming horn. 
Augur and lord of silver bow, 
Apollo, darling of the Nine, 
Who heal'st our frame when languors slow 

Have made it pine; 
Lov'st thou thine own Palatial hill, 
Prolong the glorious life of Eome 
To other cycles, brightening still 

Through time to come! 
From Algidus and Aventine 

List, goddess, to our grave Fifteen ! 
To praying youths thine ear incline, 

Diana queen 1 
Thus Jove and all the gods agree ! 

So trusting, wend we home again, 
Phoebus' and Dian's singers we, 

And this our strain. 




NOTES. 

Book J, Ode 3. 
The estratiffing main, 

*HE unplamb'd, salt, estranging sea.*' 

Matthew Asnold. 



And ihw Fate quickened Death's once halting 
pace. 

The commentators seem generally to connect AeceM- 
itaa with Leti ; I have preferred to separate them. Necets- 
itas occurs elsewhere in Horace (Book I, Ode 35, r. 17; 
Book III, Ode 1, o. 14 ; Ode 24, v. 6) as an independent 
personage, nearly s3nionymous with Fate, and I do not 
see why she should not be represented as accelerating the 
approach of Death. 

Book I, Odb 5. 

I HATE ventured to model my version of this Ode, to some 
extent, on Milton's, *^ the high-water mark,-' as it has been 
termed, " which Horatian translation has attained.'' I 
have not, however, sought to imitate his language, feeling 
that the attempt would be presumptuous in itself, and 
likely to create a sense of incongruity with the style of the 
other Odes. 



132 NOTES, 

Book I, Ode 6. 

Who with pared naila eneomtfer youtht injight, 

I LIKE Ritter*s interpretation of teetia^ cut sharp, better 
than the common one, which supposes the paring of the 
nails to denote that the attack is not really formidable. 
SecHs wiU then be virtually equivalent to Bentley's ttrictU. 
Perhaps my translation is not explicit enough. 

Book I, Ode 7. 

And search for wreaOu the oliw^s rifled bower. 

Undique decerptam I take, with Bentley, to mean " plucked 
on allliands," i. e. exhausted as a topic of poetical treat- 
ment. He well compares Lucretius, Book I, v. 927 — 

" JuvcUque novos decerpere floret, 
Inaignemque fneo capiti petere inde coronam 
Undeprius nulH velarint tempora MtatB." 

'Tie Teucer leads, 'tie Teucer breathes the toind. 

If I have slurred over the Latin, my excuse must be 
that the precise meaning of the Latin is difficult to catch. 
Is Teucer called auspex, as taking the auspices, like an 
augur, or as giving the auspices, like a god ? There are 
objections to both interpretations; a Bom an imperator 
was not called auspex, though he was attended by an au- 
spexy and was said to have the auspicia ; auspex is frequently 
used of one who, as we should say, inaugurates an under- 
taking, but only if he is a god or a deified mortal. Per- 
haps Horace himself oscillated between the two meanings ; 
his later commentators do not appear to have distinguished 
them. 



NOTES. 133 



Book I, Ode 9. 

SiKCE this Ode was printed off, I find that my last stanza 
bears a suspicious likeness to the version by ^* 0. S. 0." I 
cannot say whether it is a case of mere coincidence, or of 
unconscious recollection; it certainly is not one of de- 
liberate appropriation. I have only had the opportunity 
of seeing his book at distant intervals ; and now, on finally 
comparing his translations with my own, I find that, while 
there are a few resemblances, there are several marked 
instances of dissimilarity, where, though we have adopted 
the same metre, we do not approach each other in the 
least. 

Book I, Ode 15. 

And for your dames divide 
On peactfid lyre the severed parts of song. 

I HATE taken /emint> with divides^ but it is quite possible 
that Orelli may be right in constructing it with grata. 
The case is really one of those noticed in the Preface, 
where an interpretation which would not commend itself 
to a commentator may be adopted by a poetical translator 
simply as a free rendering. 



Book I, Ode 27. 

Our guest, 
JSfegilla's brother. 

Tbebe is no warrant in the original for representing this 
person as a guest of the company ; but the Ode is equally 
applicable to a tavern party, where all share alike, and an 
entertainment where there is a distinction between hosts 
and guests. 



134 NOTES. 

Book I, Ode 28. 

I HATE translated this Ode as it stands, without attempt- 
ing to decide whether it is dialogue or monologue. Per- 
haps the opinion which supposes it to be spoken by Horace 
in his own person, as if he had actually perished in the 
shipwreck alluded to in Book III, Ode 4, v. 27, ^^ Me . , . 
non exstinxit . • . Sicula PaJinurua unda,** deserves more 
attention than it has received. 

Book II, Ode 1. 
Methinks I hear of leaders proud. 

Horace supposes himself to hear not the leaders them- 
selves, but Follio*s recitation of their exploits. There is 
nothing weak in this, as Orelli thinks. Horace has not 
seen Pollio's work, but compliments him by saying that 
he can imagine what its finest passages will be like — ** I 
can fancy how you will glow in your description of the 
great generals, and of Cato." Possibly " Non indeeoro 
pvlvere sordidoa " may refer to the deaths of the republican 
generals, whom old recollections would lead Horace to ad- 
mire. We may then compare Ode 7 of this Book, v, 11 — 

'* Cttm fracta virtus, et minaces 
Turpe sobtm tetigere mentOy" 

where, as will be seen, I agpree with Bitter, against Orelli, 
in supposing death in battle rather than submission to be 
meant, though Horace, writing from a somewhat different 
point of view, has chosen there to speak of the vanquished 
as dying ingloriously. 

Book II, Ode 3. 

Where poplar pale and pine-tree high. 

I HAVE translated according to the common reading " Qua 



NOTES. 135 

pinus . • . . et obliquo," without stopping to inquire 
wiiether it is sufficiently supported by MSS. Those who 
with OrelU prefer *' Quoptntw • . • . quid obliquo" may 
substitute — 

Know you why pine and poplar high 
Their hospitable shadows spread 

Entwined ? why panting waters try 
To hurry down their zigzag bed ? 

Book II, Ode 7. 

A man of peace. 

QviRiTEM is generally understood of a citizen with rights 
undiminished. I have interpreted it of a civilian opposed 
to a soldier, as in the well-known story in Suetonius (Cses. 
c. 70) where Julius Caesar takes the tenth legion at their 
word, and intimates that they are disbanded by the simple 
substitution of Quirites for milites in his speech to them. 
But it may very well include both. 

Book n, Odb 13. 

In tacred awe the silent dead 
Attend on each. 

^''Sacro digna sileniio:' digna eo tilentio quod in sacris 
faciendis obterveOur,*^ — Bittbb. 

Book n, Odb 14. 

Not though three hundred bullocks fiame 
Each year. 

I HAVE at last followed Bitter in taking trecenoe as loosely 
put for 365, a steer for each day in the year. The hyper- 
bole, as he saysy would otherwise be too extravagant. 



136 NOTES. 

And richer sptlth the pavement itain. 

" Our vaults have wept 
With druuken spilth of wine." 

Shakebpeabe, Timon of AUtens. 



Book II, Ode 18. 

Suns are hurrying suns a- west^ 
And newborn moons maie speed to meet their end. 

The thought seems to be that the rapid course of time, 
hurrying men to the graye, proves the wisdom of content- 
ment and the folly of avarice. My version formerly did 
not express this, and I have altered it accordingly, while I 
have rendered " Noweque pergunt interire lume" closely, 
as Horace may perhaps have intended to speak of the 
moons as hastening to their graves as men do. 

Yet no hall that wealth f^er plannd 
Waits you more surely than the wider room 
Traced by Death^s yet greedier hand. 

Fine is the instrumental ablative constructed with desti- 
nata, which is itself an ablative agreeing with aula under- 
stood. The rich man looks into the future, and makes 
contracts which he may never live to see executed (v. 17 — 
*' Tu secanda marmora Locas sub ipsumf units ^'^i meantime 
T>eath, more punctual than any contractor, more greed}' 
than any encroaching proprietor, has planned with his 
measuring line a mansion of a different kind, which will 
infallibly be ready when the day arrives. 

Book II, Ode 20. 

/, wJiom you call 
Your friend, Ifoecenas, 

With Hitter I have rendered according to the interpre* 



NOTES. 137 

tation which makes dUecte Maecenas' address to Horace ; 
but it is a choice of evils. 



Book III, Ode I. 

And lords cf land 
Affect the sea. 

Terrm of course goes with fasHdiosus, not with dominua. 
Mine is a loose rendering, not a false interpretation. 

Book III, Ode 2. 
Her robes she keeps unsullied stiH. 

The meaning is not that worth is not disgraced by de- 
feat in contests for worldly honours, but that the honours 
which belong to worth are such as the worthy never fail 
to attain, such as bring no disgrace along with them, and 
such as the popular breath can neither confer nor resume. 

True men and thieves 
Neglected Justice oft confounds. 

'* The thieves have bound the true men.'' 

Shakespeabe, Henry IV, Act ii. Scene 2 ; 
where see Steevens' note. 



Book III, Ode 3. 

No more the adulterous guest can charm 
The Spartan queen, 

I HAVE followed Bitter in constructing LaoBna adulters as 
a dative with spUndet ; but I have done so as a poetical 
translator rather than as a commentator. 



138 NOTES. 

Book III, Odb 4. 

Or if a graver note thou love. 

With PhoAus' cittern and hii lyre, 

I HAVE followed Horace's sense, not his words. I believe, 
with Ritter, that the alternative is between the pipe as 
accompanying the vox acutoy and the eithara or lyre as ac- 
companying the vox gravis. Horace has specified the vox 
acuta, and left the vox gravit to be inferred ; I have done 
just the reverse. 

MBf at I lap on Vultures steep. 

In this and the two following stanzas I have paraphrased 
Horace, with a view to bring out what appears to be his 
sense. There is, I think, a peculiar force in the word 
fabulo84B, standing as it does at the very opening of the 
stanza, in close connection with me, and thus bearing the 
weight of all the intervening words till the very end, 
where its noun, palumbes, is introduced at last Horace 
says in effect, " I, too, like other poets, have a legend of 
my infancy." Accordingly I have thrown the gossip of 
the country-side into the form of an actual speech. Whe- 
ther I am justified in heightening the marvellous by mak- 
ing the stock-doves actually crown the child, instead of ^ 
merely laying branches upon him, I am not so sure ; but 
something more seems to be meant than the covering of 
leaves, which the Children in the Wood, in our own legend, 
receive from the robin. 

Loves the lecify growth 
Of Lgeia next his native wood. 

Some of my predecessors seem hardly to distinguish 
between the Lgeia dumeta and the natalem silvam of Delos, 
Apollo*s attachment to both of which warrants the two 
titles Delius et Patareus. I knew no better way of marking 



NOTES. 139 

the distinction within the compass of a line and a half 
than by making Apollo exhibit a preference where Horace 
speaks of his likings as co-ordinate. 

Strength mix*d with mind is made more strong* 

" Mixed ** is not meant as a precise translation of tern- 
peratam, chastened or restrained, though '* to mix " hap- 
pens to be one of the shades of meaning of temperare. 

Book III, Odb 5. 

The fields we spoiTd with com are green. 

The later editors are right in not taking Marte nostra with 
coli as well as with poptdata. As has been remarked to 
me, the pride of the Roman is far more forcibly expressed 
by the complaint that the enemy have been able to culti- 
vate fields that Home has ravaged than by the statement 
that Boman captives have been employed to cultivate the 
fields they had ravaged as invaders. The latter proposi- 
tion, it is true, includes the former ; but the new matter 
draws off attention from the old, and so weakens it. 

Who once to faithless foes has knelt. 

" Knelt " is not strictly accurate, expressing Bentley*s 
dedidit rather than the conunon, and doubtless correct, 
text, credidiL 

And, girt bg friends theU moum*d him, sped 

The press qfkin he pushed apart. 

I had originally reversed amicos and propinquos, suppos- 
ing it to be indifferent which of them was used in either 
stanza. But a friend has pointed out to me that a distinc- 
tion is probably intended between the friends who attended 
Begulos and the kinsmen who sought to prevent his going. 



140 NOTES. 

Book III, Ode 8. 
Lay down that load qf stcUe- concern.. 

I HAVE translated generally ; but Horace's meaning is 
special, referring to Maecenas* office of prefect of the city. 

Book III, Ode 9. 
BcTTMAKN complains of the editors for specifying the in- 
terlocutors as Horace and Lydia, which he thinks as in- 
coi^ruous as if in an English amoebean ode Collins were 
to appear side by side with Phyllis. The remark may be 
just as affects the Latin, though Ode 19 of the present 
Book, and Odes S3 and 36 of Book I, might be adduced to 
show that Horace does not object to mixing Latin and 
Greek names in the same poem ; but it does not apply to 
a translation, where to the English reader^s apprehension 
Horace and Lydia will seem equally real, equally fanciful. 

Book m, Ode 17. 

Lamia was doubtless vain of his pedigree ; Horace accord- 
ingly banters him good-humouredly by spending two 
stanzas out of four in giving him his proper ancestral 
designation. To shorten the address by leaving out a 
stanza, as some critics and some ti^anslators have done, is 
simply to rob Horaoe*s trifle of its point. 

Book III, Odb 23. 

These is something harsh in the expression of the fourth 
stanza of this Ode in the Latin. Tentare cannot stand 
without an .object, and to connect it, as the commentators 
do, with deo8 is awkward. I was going to remark that 
possibly some future Bentley would conjecture certare, or 
litare, when I found that certare had been anticipated by 
Feerlkamp, who, if not a Bentley, was a Bentleian. But it 
would not be easy to account for the corruption, as the 



NOTES. 141 

^fact that the previous line begins with cervice would rather 
have led to the change of tenfare into certare than vice versa. 

Book III, Ode 24. 

Ijet Necessity bttt drive 
Her wedge of adamant into thcU profid head. 

I HAVE translated this difficult passage nearly as it stands, 
not professing to decide whether tops of buildings or 
human heads are meant. Either is strange till explained ; 
neither seems at present to be supported by any exact 
parallel in ancient literature or ancient art. Necessity 
with her nails has met us before in Ode 35 of Book I, and 
Orelli describes an Etruscan work of art where she is re- 
presented with that cognizance ; but though the nail is an 
appropriate emblem of fixity, we are apparently not told 
where it is to be driven. The difficulty here is further 
complicated by the following metaphor of the noose, which 
seems to be a new and inconsistent image. 

Book III, Ode 29. 

Nor gaze on Tibur, never dried. 

With Ritter I have connected semper udum (an interpre- 
tation first suggested by Tate, who turned ne into ut) ; but 
I do not press it as the best -explanation of the Latin. The 
general effect of the stanza is the same either way. 

Those pUeSy among the clouds at home. 

I have understood molem generally of the buildings of 
Rome, not specially of Maecenas' tower. The parallel 
passage in Virg. jEn, i. 421 — 

" Miratur molem JEnecu, magcUia quondam, 
Miratur portas strepitumque et strata viarum " — 

is in favour of the former view.